


The Right Question

by Aviss



Series: The Right Question [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-05-14 05:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: In which Ned asks the right questions at the right time, and Jaime keeps most of his vows. The important ones at least.





	1. Ned

**Author's Note:**

> So I mentioned I wasn't quite done with canon... then this happened. I'm going to mess with canon a bit here, as in I'll go with book Jaime and Brienne for everything except their ages, which will be closer to show canon because it's honestly more convenient for the story. 
> 
> As always, I'll be adding warnings in the end notes and characters as I write them in the story. I kind of know where I'm going here in general broad strokes, but I'll discover the specifics as I write, that way makes it more fun for everyone I guess.
> 
> And again, a wonderful banner by the talented Ro_Nordman who is spoiling me so much! thanks!

[](https://i.imgur.com/FB07Fol.jpg)

 

Kings Landing was still smoking when Ned Stark arrived; some buildings were on fire, the people either cowering inside their own houses or screaming on the street, those who were still alive to do so, a sea of red-clad soldiers killing and raping and looting indiscriminately, the Red Keep still guarded and closed.

Gods but he hated the Lannisters, power-hungry beasts that they were, and couldn't understand why Robert had agreed to marry Tywin's daughter in exchange for his help if this was the result. There was no need to sack the city, they had won the moment Rhaegar had died in the Trident, all this bloodshed was pretty much pointless.

He looked to his side to see Robert and was disturbed to see his eager and pleased expression, not horrified in the least by the massacre surrounding them. He wondered for a moment what had happened to his friend, when had he turned into a bloodthirsty beast who could enjoy the death of innocents in the way he seemed to be enjoying it.

They arrived at the Red Keep but didn’t find the resistance they were expecting, instead, the door opened easily for them. He looked at Robert, who shrugged. “Tywin must have convinced the Mad Cunt to surrender,” he said, but Ned seriously doubted it. Not the man who had murdered his father and brother so cruelly, that man wasn’t going to surrender to Tywin Lannister nor anyone else.

“I don’t trust this,” he said, dismounting his horse and advancing towards the door. “Get behind me.”

Robert laughed and ignored him, as usual, and Ned grabbed Ice tighter in his hand. They went inside, Ned almost jumping at shadows in the empty Keep. This was not normal.

They got their answer as soon as they arrived inside the Throne room; there, in a pool of his own blood, was the king and sitting on the throne, blood still dripping from his sword and staining his white cloak, was Tywin’s first-born son Jaime. He was relaxed on the throne as if he hadn’t just committed the most heinous of crimes, broken the most sacred of vows. Ned felt a wave of revulsion for the boy because he was just that, a boy no older than seven and ten who shouldn’t have been wearing that white cloak, and who now had soiled it beyond imagining.

He took a few steps toward the throne and really looked at the boy then and noticed his sword hand was trembling and his eyes looked remote, vacant, almost as if he wasn’t properly there. Ned opened his mouth to speak, but Robert beat it to him.

“Jaime Lannister, have you been ordered to kill the king by your father to keep the throne for yourselves?”

The boy blinked slowly, his eyes narrowed as he took in Robert with his hammer and belligerent attitude and Ned, Ice firmly gripped in his hand and staring at him. He gripped his own sword tightly, and Ned could see he was weighing the option of fighting them, he then pasted a smirk on his face and stood from the throne in one graceful movement reminiscent of the lion of his house banner.

“I’m just keeping it warm for you,” he said and started walking out of the room as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“You just killed your King,” Ned said, still horrified, still uncomprehending of such an act, and could hear the judgement in his voice. Jaime stopped on the way to the door, his spine straightening.

”I certainly did,” he waited for a moment as if he was expecting Ned to add something else, when no more words were forthcoming he turned around and left them in the room.

Robert poked Aerys’s body with his hammer, then satisfied he was properly dead, as if the slit throat and the pool of blood were not enough of an indication, he walked to the Iron Throne and sat in it. “It looks like Tywin kept his word, though who would have guessed he’d make his own son a Kingslayer.” He looked around, either waiting for more people to arrive or expecting more corpses Ned didn’t know. “Where are the rest of the Targaryen?”

“The Queen and their children fled from Dragonstone already,” Ned said and for the first time, he was glad of it. He hadn’t liked the glint in Robert’s eye since he told him Lyanna had died, and he was glad to have kept the babe hidden. Robert had been drinking more than he should since that night, not that he didn’t drink plenty before, and the things he had said he wanted to do to the all the Targaryen, even the children, had given Ned chills. He knew his friend had loved Lyanna and was grieving, but so was Ned, she had been his sister, and yet he wasn’t planning the murder of women and children.

He would need to invent a good story to tell about the babe to keep him hidden, at least for a while until Robert calmed down.

Thinking of the babe, he wanted to go back to their camp and see how he was. The wet nurse he had found had been good enough to come with them, but she would want to go back to Dorne, and Ned doubted he could find anyone wanting to travel to Winterfell. He didn’t know what he was going to tell Cat, who he had not been with for long and had already given him a son, if he got back with a child in his hands.

He was still thinking of this when they heard steps coming into the throne room, and he turned to see Tywin Lannister coming into the room. Next to him walked his son, the expression on his face one Ned couldn’t decipher before he wiped it, his eyes blanking out again. Gregor Clegane was walking behind them, his hands occupied with a bundle wrapped in a crimson cloak.

“I think you were looking for this,” Tywin said, and Clegane deposited the bundle at Robert’s feet, unwrapping it to reveal the bodies of two small children, their faces smashed and their blonde heads dripping with blood.

Ned felt his stomach turning at the sight and shot Robert a look, hoping to see outrage there. Robert was smiling, satisfied, and Ned realized the horror he was expecting to see on his friend’s face was what he had seen on Jaime Lannister’s face.

“Now we only need to get the ones who ran away,” Robert said, his first official order as King of the Seven Kingdoms. “We’ll send people after them, they can't have gone far.”

Ned closed his eyes and wished to be as far away from King’s Landing as possible, in Winterfell back in Cat’s arms.

This was not why he had rebelled.

…

The babe needed a new name because Ned couldn’t keep calling him the babe nor could he call him Aemon, like Lyanna had wanted, not without Robert finding the truth. He didn’t want to believe his friend would harm the boy, not being Lyanna’s son, but that was before he had seen him smiling down at the corpses of Rhaegar’s other children.

Ned couldn’t risk it.

So far Robert had accepted the boy as Ned’s son easily, had even laughed and congratulated him for _loosening up during the campaign_ , as if cheating on his wife was worthy of praise. Ned knew he was maybe too unbending and straight-laced, as his friend told him occasionally, but he wanted to keep his marriage vows, even if Cat had originally been meant to marry Brandon, she was a good woman and they were friendly enough. Love was a luxury few highborn lords and ladies found in their marriages, but Ned was a firm believer that love would grow from friendship and respect. He intended to have that with his wife and didn’t care if the rest of the people called him boring for not sleeping with the whores and camp followers they did. He had been very disappointed seeing Robert with one or two of them most nights, even as he professed his love for Lyanna.

So far the babe had been very well behaved, barely crying unless he was in some kind of distress.

“What are you going to tell Cat?” Jon Arryn had asked him with a disappointed expression. He was to marry Cat’s sister, Lysa, and to take a position as Hand of the King.

Robert had offered the position to Ned, arguing that he was the best person to curve his worst impulses, but Ned had declined. His place was in Winterfell, with his family. Not to mention he didn’t want the babe anywhere close to Robert. “The truth, I guess.”

“You’re going to name the child’s mother?”

It wasn’t the mother who was the problem, but the father, not that he could say that. “No, there is no reason to besmirch her honour as well as mine.” Let people believe she was highborn, because she had been, and still alive.

“Good luck getting Cat to forgive you,” Jon had finally said. “Just don’t make it a habit and fill Winterfell of Snows as if you were Robert.”

He had thought of his friend's words and decided that for as long as the child was under his care, his name would be Jon Snow.

…

Ned hadn’t been able to get the expression on Jaime Lannister’s face out of his mind, and it was driving him mad.

He didn’t know why he cared but he did, and the fact that the boy had looked disturbed and horrified when his father had presented the children to Robert didn’t sit well with him. If he had killed Aerys in cold blood on his father’s orders, why would he care about the children? It made no sense.

Robert was still discussing what to do with him; the punishment for Kingslaying was death, but of course, he was Tywin Lannister's son and the twin brother of Robert’s future wife, he was going to be pardoned.

He should not be allowed to remain in the Kingsguard, though, and that was what Tywin was arguing with Robert. He wanted his son dismissed, but Jaime wanted to remain in it. For his honour. "What honour?" Ned had asked, refusing to cower under Tywin's glare at his words. "He's broken his oath, what honour he has left?" Jaime had stared at him balefully but said nothing to defend himself, and again Ned didn't feel comfortable with that. Not from a Lannister, who would either not care for honour at all or respond to the insult.

Ned found himself looking for him after that meeting.

“Ser Jaime,” he said, both of them walking out of the small council room where Tywin and Robert were still arguing. They were discussing the wedding now, Cersei Lannister was coming from Casterly Rock and would arrive in a few days, the wedding set for a fortnight after her arrival. “A word, if you may?”

Jaime looked at him assessing, he looked around and then entered one of the empty rooms in the corridor. Ned locked it behind them and turned to him. Jaime was looking at him warily now, and the only reason he had not drawn his sword was probably the fact that Ned wasn’t even carrying Ice. “What does the honourable Eddard Stark want with an Oathbreaker like me?” he said, and he sounded bitter. Maybe with time, he would be able to cloak himself in his arrogance easily but he still needed to make a conscious effort now, and he wasn’t always successful. “I’m the Kingslayer now, according to our new King, who would not be sitting in that throne if it wasn’t for me.”

“Why did you do it?” Ned asked, and was startled to see the shocked look in Jaime’s face, his mask cracking to leave something broken exposed under it. Ned had been right in thinking the boy had not done it on his father’s orders.

“I have no honour, were you not in the council room reminding us of that five minutes ago?” he said, but his voice wasn’t the bitter one from a minute ago, it was despairing and old beyond his years, and Ned was reminded of the boy who had been knighted by Arthur Dayne and idolized him. The boy who had believed being appointed to the Kingsguard was the highest of honours, even if it meant renouncing to his inheritance.

“Then why do you care if you are no longer in the Kingsguard? Break that vow as well, what difference does it make?” Ned pushed him and saw the fight taking place inside of him on his face.

Maybe, if he had not asked now, the boy would have grown into his title, using it like armour and hardening himself against the world. He was a Lannister, after all, and they were all as arrogant and they were beautiful, or that was how they presented themselves. He wondered whether they had another choice with Tywin as their father. Jaime finally closed his eyes and sagged against a wall, like a puppet with the strings cut, and when he opened them and looked at Ned he realized Jaime wasn't a boy anymore. Not really.

"You know, I always thought it was an honour being chosen for the Kingsguard. When Ser Arthur Knighted me was the best day of my life, and then the King fastened a white cloak around my shoulders and I believed it was because I was a great Knight and they recognised that," Jaime's voice was soft and remote, Ned was afraid to say anything lest he broke the spell. "It took me five minutes to realize I wasn't being honoured for anything, I was being taken hostage against my father. Still, I was serving with the men I admired, I was going to uphold my vows. And I did, through the rapes and beatings to his wife, I was told my job wasn't to protect the Queen from the King when I asked if we should be intervening. I upheld my vows through the torture and murder of many innocent people, including your father and brother, and I can still hear your father's screams and smell how he roasted in his own armour." Ned felt his gorge rising at the words, he had heard about it but had not been there to see it, and it still caused him nightmares. He was beginning to think he might have misjudged Jaime. "I used to spend most of the time I was guarding the King deep inside my head, it was the only way to endure it. Then you rebelled, and everyone left, and I stayed here as the hostage I really was to prevent my father from intervening. And still, I upheld my vow, I kept it while I saw the King setting up wildfire caches under the entire city, while I saw him spiralling into madness worse than any we've seen when we heard about Rhaegar's death. Twice I begged the King to surrender and not trust my father when he finally was at our doors, twice I was ignored. Then the King asked me to bring him my father's head at the same time he ordered for his wildfire to be ignited to destroy the entire city." He looked up at Ned and he saw the despair and rage in his eyes. "What should have I done? Which vow should I have kept then? Do I protect the King or the innocent? Tell me, Lord Stark, you who are so honourable, what would you have done?"

"Why haven't you told anyone about the wildfire?" Ned asked, stunned. If what he was saying was the truth then it was unfair to judge him for the act that had saved so many innocents.

Jaime laughed, bitter and ugly. "I vowed to keep my King's secrets, didn't I? I guess, what's one more broken oath now?" He stared at Ned and his features twisted, a look of pure rage taking over them. " _Don't you dare pity me,_ " he snarled and then pushed from the wall and was out of the room before Ned knew what he could say to that.

…

Ned wasn't expecting to find Jaime in his rooms when he got there the next night, Jon cradled in his arms while the wet nurse was occupied with her own children. He closed the door resisting the urge to hide the babe from Jaime's eyes. He was sitting on Ned's writing desk, still wearing the white of the Kingsguard and indolently checking the half-written letter Ned was trying to finish for Cat. He hadn't gone very far, still unsure of what to tell her.

"I've always had problems with my letters, much to my father's frustration," Jaime said completely out of left field, eyes still fixed on the paper in his hands. There was nothing there incriminating one way or the other, but it still bothered Ned to find him there, unannounced and uninvited, snooping around things he had no business reading. "The letters always switched places and moved around, and nobody believed me. My father only pushed me harder to do better, I think that's the reason I liked training so much, at least that didn't give me a headache."

Ned snatched the letter from his hand. "Is there a reason you've come looking for me, Ser Jaime?" he asked, not in the mood for politeness.

It was a bad move as it put the babe directly in his line of sight.

"So that's the bastard I've heard the honourable Ned Stark brought back from the battle, not so honourable where your cock is concerned, are you?" he said, standing from the chair and smiling sharply at him. Then he frowned, staring intently a Jon and Ned could see the wheels turning in his head, probably considering and discarding possibilities of who the mother could be and discarding them quickly. He stopped, his eyes widening, and looked between Ned and the babe, who thankfully had been born with the Stark's dark hair and eyes. "There's one thing I have never understood, and maybe you can clear it up for me? Why did Ser Arthur Dayne stay guarding a godforsaken tower in Dorne while the prince rode to the trident? That's where you killed him, isn't it?"

Ned didn't say anything, his eyes darted quickly to Ice and he calculated whether he could get to the sword in time and whether he could best Jaime in a duel. It had been just thanks to Howland Reed that he had beaten Arthur Dayne, and Jaime was at least his equal with a sword. And Ned had a babe in his arms.

Jaime saw all of this in his expression and nodded thoughtfully, some tension leaving his shoulders that Ned had not realized was there before. "I thought so. Come with me. Bring the babe." He considered for a moment what to do, and Jaime stopped and looked at him straight in the eye. "I won't hurt either of you. _I swear it on my honour._ "

It was clearly a test, and Ned nodded and followed Jaime outside. For the next half hour Ned wondered whether he had been too hasty to trust this boy, _this Lannister,_ just because of some confession that could be true or not. There was no way for Ned to confirm what he had been told, except he had the feeling he wasn't being lied to. They walked out of the Red Keep through passages Ned had never seen before and found themselves in front of a small red-roofed house off the Street of Silk, where Flea Bottom started.

"I heard you were looking for a wet nurse for your bastard, Lord Stark, one willing to travel North." Jaime knocked on the door, three short raps followed by a long one and another three short. Some kind of code. Ned was stuck on what Jaime had said, though. He wouldn't have brought him here for a wet nurse, not unless things were not what they seemed.

Then the door opened to admit them and a tiny child barreled out, crashing against Jaime's legs, followed closely by none other than Elia Martell.

"Jaime!" the girl squeaked, looking up with huge dark eyes.

Jaime smiled gently at her in a way Ned would not have believed possible before he saw it. "Hello, Rhaenys"

…


	2. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, in case anyone didn't imagine this already. Not Cersei or Robert friendly.

"I know my father," Jaime began, finding the words easier to come out that he had imagined, "I didn't think he'd send the Mountain to do what he did, though I knew Elia and the children were not getting out of this alive if they stayed in the Red Keep. Not after Rhaegar and your sister were dead." 

Jaime was sitting with Ned Stark, of all people, in the kitchen of the little house where Elia was hiding with the children. She had taken the babe out of Stark's arms as soon as he started fussing, saying she had plenty of milk and could stand feeding another little one, and had left them in the kitchen alone. Stark still looked stunned, he probably had believed Jaime had enjoyed seeing the corpses of those little children like that beast Robert had, had enjoyed seeing Lydsa, Elia's friend and Aegon's wet nurse, raped and beaten to death by that monster Clegane. Lydsa and Elia had been similar enough in build and colouring to trick people sometimes, and she had two daughters around the same age as Rhaenys and Aegon, a fact Jaime had exploited when he asked Lydsa to take her friend's place in exchange for a big bag of gold.

Jaime had never imagined his father would send the Mountain inside the Keep, unleashed beast that he was, to carry out the murders Lannisters would not dirty their hands with. Lydsa was there just to buy them time, he had intended to get her out as soon as Aerys surrendered the Keep and put Elia on the first ship to Dorne where her brother could keep her safe. He had not expected to have to kill the King either, but he wasn't going to allow him to burn the entire city to the ground. He should have killed him much, much earlier.

"But how?" Ned asked, and Jaime shrugged. 

"There are many passages and corridors known only to the Kingsguard. I smuggled Elia and the kids out of the keep as soon as my father arrived in King's Landing during one of my rest periods. Lydsa, her wet nurse, put on Elia's clothes and took her place in her rooms. It was enough to fool Aerys, who never looked at them for longer than a second, or any other guards. A Kingsguard would not have been fooled, but there were none left but me. I thought they would go after Elia and find Lydsa instead, who didn't know where she was, only I did." They were supposed to leave Lydsa alone, she was just a wet nurse, after all.

"And your father would never torture the information out of you," Ned said, nodding. That had been the plan, and he might be as stupid as his father always told him he was because he had believed it would work. At least until he'd slit Aerys's throat, and his hand still trembled when he thought about that, and then he'd seen Clegane bring the children's bodies to the new King. 

"No, but your dear friend Robert might," Jaime challenged him.

He had seen it clearly in Robert's face: the children wouldn't be safe for as long as he sat on the Iron Throne. He had also seen in Stark's face how much that one act repulsed him.

He had not expected Ned Stark to care; not perfect Eddard Stark, who had looked at him with loathing in the throne room and then argued to have him dismissed from the Kingsguard because he had no honour. 

But Ned had followed him out of the room and asked the question not even his father, who knew he had not been under any orders, had asked. _Why_. And Jaime had breathed for the first time since he slit the King's throat, the words pouring out of him. 

And now he had given Lord Stark the honourable enough rope to hang him with, if he so desired. What he'd done was treason, and he was already on shaky ground. Robert could have him executed for Kingslaying, but he'd lose Tywin's support, and he could not afford to have to fight the Lannister army, which had not taken part in the rebellion and was still fresh, not to alienate the gold purse he was depending on to pay his own army. But if Jaime committed treason, like for example hiding the Targaryen children, then Tywin wouldn't be able to stay his hand.

He had seen the way Ned looked at his friend when the bodies had been presented to him, had seen the heartbreak and the revulsion that was previously reserved for Lannisters. Then he'd seen the babe in Ned's arms, and he was too small, Stark would have needed to sleep with the first available whore the moment he left his house to have that child, and that didn't sound like him at all. He was about big enough to have been born around the time Lyanna Stark and Arthur died, though, and Ned's reaction when Jaime had suggested something to that effect had been damning enough.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Are you going to tell him about Jon?" Ned shot back, and Jaime shook his head.

"Our good King would kill them all without a thought."

They stayed staring at each other for a bit, then Rhaenys ran into the room and climbed on Jaime's lap. He couldn't help but smile at her, she was a real charmer. Ever since his first day as a Kingsguard he had adored the little girl, she reminded him of Tyrion too much for him to do otherwise. He missed his little brother almost as much as he missed his sister, though for completely different reasons, and Rhaenys's shy smiles and her intelligent eyes always brought Tyrion to mind. Tyrion had just had his tenth name day and was probably more interested in books than in bouncing on Jaime's knees as he did when he was Rhaenys's age, he had been too long without seeing him.

"What were you going to do with them? They can't stay in King's Landing, eventually, someone more observant than Cleagane, or less intent on murder, is going to see them and recognize them," Ned asked, he had been staring at Jaime as he bounced Rhaenys on his knees and her delighted squeals with an odd expression on his face. 

"I was going to send them to Dorne, back to their family." He couldn't now, not with King Robert having sent people after Aery's children. The first place they were going to look for them would be Dorne if they were smart. "Can you take them North with you?"

Ned shook his head. "I can pass Jon as mine, but there's no way I can bring a whole family to Winterfell without people asking questions. Jon, he's just a babe and looks like a Stark, nobody's going to question it. _Nobody has questioned it._ "

"Your wife will," Jaime pointed out because Ned wasn't like the King, who had probably planted his seed in many whores and camp followers during the campaign to retrieve his one true love. It was going to be a hard sell or make his married life a living hell. Not that Jaime cared. Or should care.

"Let me worry about that when I get there."

Jaime refrained from saying anything about the letter he had read, which very obviously was supposed to serve as an introduction to a new member of their family and meant Ned was already worrying about it. It wasn't his problem, though, his problem was Elia and the kids, and his sister who was coming to King's Landing to marry a poor excuse of a King. He needed to get Cersei out as much as he needed to get Elia.

"I'll have to think of something, but now we need to get back before someone misses us."

Ned nodded and they went to the other room, where Elia had managed to get both little boys to sleep. "When are we leaving, Ser Jaime?" she asked, anxious, the moment she saw them. She had asked the same question since the moment Jaime had taken her out of the Keep, but had accepted to wait a bit longer. News of the King's death and the arrival of the Lannister and Baratheon armies must have reached her here, even if she had kept out of sight, and she was probably aware of the danger they were all in. "And where is Lydsa?" Jaime closed his eyes and she must have seen the answer on his face because she started crying softly. 

"I'm sorry, I have to leave now, I'll come back as soon as I can." He knelt down and pressed his lips to Rhaenys's forehead. "I'll see you soon."

They rushed through dark passages back to the Red Keep, and right before they got in Ned grabbed his arm to stop him. At least he was smart enough to do it before they arrived, there were millions of eyes and ears in the Keep. "Once we're inside, we don't talk to each other," Ned said and Jaime rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if he liked Lord Stark that much. "If you need me for anything, come straight to my room like today."

"I'm not an idiot, Lord Stark," Jaime retorted. "I know what's a stake here." It wasn't just Elia's and the children's heads that would end up on a spike if they were caught. "Don't trust anyone in there."

Ned nodded and they kept walking until they were back inside. Jaime went straight to his room and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the three children with Targaryen blood and the two that had fled. 

He was playing a very dangerous game, and his father would be very disappointed to learn there was no gain for their house in it.

But at least his sister was coming, everything would be better once she was with him.

…

Cersei was as beautiful as he remembered and Jaime drank in the sight of her after so long apart. 

She descended regally from the wheelhouse, her golden curls shining under the sun, a demure smile on her lush lips and happiness in her eyes. Jaime wanted her to go straight for him, nobody would have found it strange for her to embrace her brother after so long apart, and he would be able to press against her and bury his face in her hair, even in public, but he knew propriety dictated she presented herself first to the King.

"Your Grace," she said, curtseying, her voice was soft and musical and made Jaime's gut clench with desire. It had been too long since he had her in his arms, too long since he'd been allowed to kiss her, to touch her beautiful skin, too long since the last time he was inside her. He hadn't known how much he missed her until she was right in front of him and he was unable to hold her. It had been her he fled to when he had to guard Aerys and he was particularly cruel, her memory he sought and her embrace he remembered. Nothing did justice to having her there, with him.

She looked up then, straight at him, and her lips twisted into that smile he loved so much, the one reserved for him. He felt his mouth turn up on an answering smile, his hands aching with the desire to grab her and take her away, to a place where it was just the two of them.

"Lady Cersei," Robert said, looking her up and down as if appraising a whore in a brothel. He had already partaken in some wine during the day, his tongue looser than it should be. And this was their new King, Seven help them all. "You really look like your brother with tits, though you are prettier."

Cersei flushed, and one would need to know her very well to know it wasn't embarrassment but irritation painting her cheeks red. She hated it when people compared the two of them; they were one and the same, there was no need for comparison after all. 

Jaime followed them dutifully as they walked inside, heading to the Great Hall where a big feast was waiting for them. It was all the King had been talking about in the past two days, the feast they had prepared to honour his betrothed and the news coming from the people he'd sent after the Targaryen children. Jaime had exchanged just one look with Ned Stark when they heard, but it was better people believed they disliked each other instead of keeping each other secrets.

So far, Jaime had not come up with an alternative plan to shipping Elia to Dorne, and not being able to talk to someone about this was making things worse. But now Cersei was there, and once he had made love to her, they could speak. She had always been the smarter of the two, she would come up with a plan.

He stayed on duty the entirety of the feast, watching people laugh and drink and toast in his sister's name. This was his father's idea of punishment for refusing the chance of leaving the Kingsguard, Tywin wanted to remind him of what would be his place while the people he guarded enjoyed their life. It gave Jaime time to think, though, standing there and watching how Robert's hands drifted to Cersei's thighs under the table, how he leaned towards her and at some point pressed his mouth to her neck. Cersei smiled and laughed and followed her cues, going through the motions and pretending to be the bashful bride, but she had looked straight into Jaime's eyes and there had been a promise there. It made it bearable standing there, to know as soon as everyone was gone, he'd be with her, with his other half.

Nothing else mattered.

…

"I thought it was going to last all night," Jaime said entering Cersei's rooms through one of the hidden passages. One of the good things of having been in the Red Keep for two years, and being a member of the Kingsguard, was that he knew most of the hidden corridors and secret passages, and could move undetected. It was how he had been able to smuggle Elia out, and how he'd taken Ned to the house a few days past. "And how much does Robert drink? A normal person would have been unconscious way before that."

Cersei was sitting by her vanity, brushing her hair, already dressed down. It was a pity, Jaime had loved the dress she was wearing to the feast, the crimson and gold with embroidered lions in the bodice that showed the top of her creamy white breasts. He had been thinking about burying his face there while they ate, but he wasn't going to complain either if he could just untie her robe and have her naked in his arms.

"Jaime," she said, smiling at him from the reflection. "I have missed you, brother."

"I have missed you as well," he said, pressing his body against her back and embracing her. He could see the two of them in the mirror, and see how Cersei smiled at their reflection, their faces so similar that if he suddenly grew breast they could probably pass for each other as they did as children. 

They turned their faces at the same time and then they were kissing, hungrily and desperately. Nothing had ever felt as good as her mouth on his and her body pressed against him, Cersei's hands were undoing the laces on his breeches and his were undoing the ties of her robe, and they fell to the floor, completely uncaring of anything but each other. When he finally sunk into her, Jaime could have cried. For the first time in two years, he felt whole.

Afterwards, she pushed him off almost immediately. Cersei made a moue if displeasure when she stood, Jaime still laying on the floor and enjoying the magnificent view. "You spilled inside, you have to be more careful. I can't be asking for moon tea so close to my wedding, I'm supposed to be a maid." She glared down at him, her face hardening now they weren't making love. "Get up and get dressed, and next time you could at least wait until we get to the bed."

Jaime sat up, he had forgotten about her mood swings once she'd gotten her pleasure. "Where's the rush, we haven't seen each other in so long," he stood and approached her again, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. "I can go again in a moment."

She pushed him away. "Don't joke, this is not Casterly Rock. We have to be more discreet."

Jaime frowned at her coldness. "I've used a secret passage and it's the middle of the night, nobody is finding us here." He approached her again and she pushed him away again.

"Do you want us to be discovered?" she hissed at him. 

Jaime shrugged. "You don't need to marry this man; I can be dismissed from the Kingsguard like father wants me to, and we can both go back to Casterly Rock."

He could see it so clearly, going back home together, being together always. Robert was going to be a bad King, they could get Tyrion and the three of them flee to Essos with Elia and the children. They had enough gold, and once there Jaime could become a sellsword, he was good enough to rise to commander in no time and earn enough gold to keep them all comfortable.

"Have you lost your wits?" Cersei asked coldly. " _I'm about to be Queen._ "

"Married to a dimwitted drunkard," Jaime retorted, feeling the first stirrings of anger. He started dressing again, knowing there would be no more lovemaking tonight.

"I'm a woman, you think anyone is going to just put a crown on my head?"

"You don't need to marry this man, we can leave, go together to Essos and marry there, nobody will care who we are. Nothing matters, only us, isn't that what you've always told me? We can go, tonight, and nobody can stop us."

He could trust Lord Stark to do right by Elia if Jaime couldn't take her with him, Cersei might not want to after Rhaegar had chosen Elia over her.

"And what would we do there?" She sneered at him, an expression reserved for the ones she thought stupid.

"We'll be together, always."

"We can be together here, you're in the Kingsguard and I'll be your Queen." She was back in the vanity brushing her hair where Jaime's hands had messed it. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

_No, it wasn't._ He thought savagely. _He wanted her, he had only ever wanted her, fully and completely. Not her by another man's side and him standing behind them. Not just stolen moments. Just the two of them, together._ _The way they were supposed to be_. They had come to the world together and they would leave it together, and they should always be together. She had been the most insistent when they were children that they were two halves of a whole and they belonged together, why was she so resistant now?

"Why can't we just run away together?"

She stared at him through the mirror. "Robert would send people after us like he's done with the Targaryen brats."

"I'll kill him, then," Jaime said with a shrug. "I've just killed a King, I can kill another and take the throne, we'd marry then and you can have your blasted crown."

Cersei threw the brush down on the vanity disgustedly. "Are you being deliberately stupid? We can't marry."

"Why not? The Targaryen did marry brother and sister." She used to tell him this, why would they be less than the Kings and Queens of old? They were better than them because they were two bodies with one soul.

"Yes, and now they're dead so we can finally be together here, in King's Landing, the way it should have been before father took me away."

"That's not why I did it," he protested, weakly. This entire conversation was not the reunion he had hoped for, and it was making him angry and sad and disappointed. He should have Cersei in his arms, they should be kissing and making love, or running away together, they shouldn't be fighting like this.

"It matters not why you did it, Jaime," she said, and he felt the words like a sword to the chest, he looked at his white doublet and was surprised not to see blood. _It didn't matter?_ He thought of Ned Stark, asking him _why_. Of his father and the King not even bothering to while they bartered about his future. And Cersei thought it didn't matter? "Only that you did it, and now I can be Queen, and I'll have you by my side, the way it should be." She smiled sweetly at him in the mirror, but her eyes were still cold. That was what mattered, wasn't it? That she would be Queen, not what it had cost him. Gods, he was really stupid. "This was what you have always wanted, to be the best and most honourable knight, there is no higher honour than the Kingsguard."

"I just killed the King, I have no honour anymore; not in the eyes of the realm, not in the eyes of the King I just made." He didn't know his voice could sound so despairing. "And not even in yours, it seems." Not if she didn't care to hear his reasons beyond the results, and the result was the Crown she had always wanted. 

He finished dressing and fastened the white cloak around his shoulders, her eyes following him the entire time.

"This is what you wanted, Jaime, for us to be together here," she insisted, and Jaime just nodded. "Remember when you were about to be engaged, I got you out of that and into the Kingsguard because that was what you wanted. What you have always wanted."

"I remember," he said, heading to the passage and leaving Cersei staring at herself in the mirror.

He remembered how he had renounced to his inheritance and his right as a Lannister so he could be with Cersei, how he had spent two years in hell without her only for Cersei now to marry Robert Baratheon. He knew it was his father who had arranged the match, but it gave her what she had always wanted, even more than Jaime. It gave her a Crown. It gave her power. And she wasn't willing to renounce to any of that for him. It was more important to her than her other half. 

He turned before taking the corridor that would take him to the white tower and headed to the guest rooms. 

He needed to speak to Ned Stark.

...


	3. Ned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been hell to write. I didn't know what I was getting into with an overambitious AU, I wanted to explore what could happen if Elia lived, but then I had to take into account the political ramifications at that point in time. Arrggg. I wish I could just have sent them to Tarth to be happy, but well... they'll get there, hopefully :P

Ned startled awake in the middle of the night feeling unsettled, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his breath quick and short. He had dreamed of the dead babies again, only this time it wasn't the wet nurse's children, or Rhaenys and Aegon, this time it was Robb and Jon, and the one smashing the babes against the wall was Robert.

"See, this is how you do it," Robert had said in his dream, slurring his words like he did when he was well in cups. "Now you try it." 

He had put a babe on Ned's hands and was laughing and encouraging him. Next to him was Cersei Lannister, beautiful and remote the way she had been in the feast, and her brother was behind her also laughing and cheering on him, though his eyes were wide and terrified.

One didn't need to be a genius to know Ned had been thinking about Elia and the children all the time since they got back from the house they were hiding in two days ago.

Ned opened his eyes with a sigh and drew his hand down his face. He almost screamed at the white-clad figure sitting at his writing desk and staring at him in silence. How the hell had Jaime Lannister made it inside his room without waking him was anyone's guess, but it set his heart on a wild gallop inside his chest.

"Ser Jaime, you make very free with my room," Ned started, irked by the rude awakening in the middle of the night. Jaime then lit a candle and Ned could see his face. "Are Elia and the children alright?" He asked, concerned upon seeing his expression. 

Jaime looked pale and drawn, his brow furrowed, his eyes sad and defeated. He looked dishevelled, hair in disarray and clothing put on in a hurry as if he had been woken by bad news in the middle of the night. 

"They should be," he said shortly. "I need you to get me dismissed from the Kingsguard."

That made Ned sit up. "What?" Tywin had been trying for the past few days and Jaime had been adamant he was to remain. If he now wanted to leave, Robert would only be too happy to let him go, but Ned couldn't help but wonder what had made him change his mind so quickly. "Tell Robert, he'll let you go immediately if only to appease your father."

Jaime shook his head. "I can't, if I'm seen wanting out she will stop it and convince me it's for the better. _Again_."

_Cersei_. The future Queen, his sister. And the bitterness in his voice meant the decision came after a fight with her, more than likely. It could be they had a contentious relationship, as some siblings did, and he simply wanted to be where she was not. But it made no sense, he could have been dismissed before she arrived if he hadn't opposed it so insistently, he had wanted to stay knowing his sister was about to become his Queen, _because his sister was going to be his Queen_ , Ned would bet anything, since he held no love for Robert. And when she had arrived, Ned had looked at them and Jaime's eyes had been on his sister most of the time, and the expression on them wasn't one of displeasure, quite the contrary. 

Ned looked at him again, cataloguing what he could see of his appearance and expression, then stopped himself before the half-formed conclusion could take definite shape. He didn't want to know, they already had enough problems in their hands. "On what grounds should you be dismissed?" 

Jaime laughed mirthlessly. "Kinglasying is not enough of an excuse to get me dismissed of the Kingsguard? I might make a habit of it," he said, and Ned tensed at his words. He had wanted to kill Robert when they arrived and he had challenged him in the Throne room, and then when he had smiled at what he believed to be Elia's children. It had been clear on Jaime's face. He had worn the same expression at some moments during the feast as well, always when Robert was being too forward with Cersei. "What about this, then, does the King want so many Lannisters around? Does he want his wife's brother guarding his door while he fucks her? Following him around all the time? It could be awkward, someone with his reputation probably won't stay faithful to his wife, unlike you." His voice was bitter, lips curled on a sneer and eyes resentful. Again, Ned could see how little he wanted his sister marrying Robert.

It wasn't jealousy, Ned told himself, they were siblings, it was of concern for his sister since Robert's reputation preceded him. He was right to be concerned, unfortunately. Ned had been concerned for Lyanna as well, before. "Why now?"

Again that spasm of sadness and disappointment crossed Jaime's face. "Let's just say tonight has been an enlightening night."

"I'll do my best," Ned said, and Jaime nodded, some of the tension leaving him.

"Thank you, Lord Stark."

"Just call me Ned, it's only the two of us and the hour is late," he stood from the bed and went to his basin to wash his face. He knew there would be no more sleep for him tonight, and Jaime wasn't showing any intention to move. "I wanted to speak to you, anyway. Doran Martell has sent a raven to Robert regarding his sister."

He saw the weary and troubled look leave Jaime's face immediately, leaving it blank and focused. It was scary to consider the fact that he was barely ten and seven; he was already the best swordsman in the realm after the death of Arthur Dayne, had displayed a strength of character and cunning by getting Elia out of the Red Keep few had before, and he had been able to connect the dots after being barely five minutes in a room with Jon. He had great potential for honour and heroic deeds, he already had the instincts for it, and nobody was more surprised by that fact than Ned, who hadn't thought a Lannister capable of goodness before.

If he was moulded by his family, though, and turned all of that to the service of the Lannister greed, he could become a terrifying monster.

"So he's already been informed of her death," he said, "Varys's little birds have been busy."

"He's demanded the body to be returned to Dorne." The letter Robert had shown him was polite enough, for a threat to raise Dorne's banners and declare war on Lannisters and Baratheons unless they returned Elia's body to her family. Robert had been angry when he read it but had listened to reason after Ned reminded him Elia had been an innocent wronged by Rhaegar, same as Lyanna, and wouldn't he respond the same if Dorne refused to send Lyanna's body to her family?

After that, he had relented and agreed to send the bodies by ship to Dorne.

Jaime stood up from the desk and started pacing in the small room. "He can't be allowed to see the bodies, the moment he does, he'll realize it's not his sister. Not to mention the way Lydsa was murdered, if it had been Elia it would be reason enough to declare war."

Ned had seen what that monster had done to the poor woman and couldn't agree more. If it had been his sister he'd go to war as well. He _had gone to war_ against a King who cruelly murdered his family.

"I have been thinking about this," Ned said because he'd done little else for the past two days. It was an unpalatable truth that Elia and her children being dead would solve most of their problems, present and most definitely future. Any children with a claim to the throne who was allowed to live would garner supporters, that was the reason they weren't usually allowed to grow up to press that claim. It didn't sit well with Ned, especially considering one of those children was his nephew, and the brutality used in what Robert thought was the Targaryen children was excessive. But the truth was what they were doing was treason not just because it went against the King's order, but they were setting the stage for Robert to be overthrown once the children grew up. "If Elia goes back to her brother, Dorne is going to rebel and try to put Aegon in the throne with Doran as regent. Robert and your father are not going to allow that, not now your father has a grasp on the Throne himself. And if Dorian doesn't receive his sister's remains he'll attack as well."

It was clear Jaime wanted to protest that but couldn't. It was useless for him to try to defend his father, they were both aware of how power hungry Tywin Lannister was. "It's not my father that should concern you, it's my sister," he finally said, the words torn from his mouth apparently against his will. "She finally got her Crown, she won't relinquish it. Not without a fight."

"We can't afford another war." King's Landing alone would take time to recover from the damage the Lannister army had done, not to mention the Riverlands and Stormlands where most of the fighting had taken place. The smallfolk had suffered enough. "But unless we're willing to make them disappear, we're going to have one."

They stared at each other in silence, Ned didn't know what he was expecting but it wasn't Jaime's frustrated expression. "We can't kill them," he said, and after Ned had seen him with Rhaenys he knew Jaime wouldn't allow any harm to come to the girl. "We can't return them to Dorne, and they definitely can't stay in King's Landing. What can we do?"

"We need to take them to a place where they are safe and they need to arrive in secrecy. Aery's children fled to Essos, which is now crawling with sellswords wanting the bag of gold the Crown is offering." Ned said, finally. He couldn't take them North with him either, though it would be one of the safest places for them considering how remote it was from the rest of the Kingdoms. But someone would see them on the way, or once they were there. Their survival relied on secrecy. 

Jaime stopped his infernal pacing, his expression considering. "Somewhere in Westeros, easy to reach from King's Landing but isolated enough that word of them won't reach our King immediately." Some light came into his eyes, probably reaching the same conclusion as Ned had when Robert had said he was sending Elia's remains by ship. "But the Evenstar is a Baratheon bannerman."

Ned nodded, glad to see he was right. "He is, but more importantly, he's a just man. He's a few years my senior, I met him in Storm's End a few years back when Selwyn inherited his title and was presenting himself to his liege lord. He looks to Storm's End but he keeps his own counsel, and though I'm loath to bring anyone else into this, he's a man I would trust to do the right thing if we need an ally." Ned remembered the man, it was impossible to forget him when he towered over everyone and was strong as a Clegane, and yet he was one of the kindest souls Ned had ever met. He never loomed or used his physical advantage to intimidate people, and usually listened to everyone attentively. He was as straight as Stannis, but not as unbendable, and was willing to admit to his mistakes. Ned had immediately liked him and remembered that he had been one of the first lords to send his support when his family had been murdered by Aerys.

"It shouldn't be too difficult to find a ship to get them to Tarth, but I don't feel comfortable with them travelling out in the open. Elia's looks are quite distinctive."

As it was with most Dornish people, and though it wouldn't be an issue normally, not with a port as big as King's Landing, things were not normal right now. There weren't many Dornish people around, Elia would be easy to remember. "Tarth enjoys a unique position, they trade with Essos and Dorne and King's Landing equally, and thanks to its beauty many people have settled there."

"You mean Elia's Dornish looks won't be remarkable, but we still need to get her to Tarth."

"Can you smuggle them into the port?" Ned asked, it was the question everything else hinged on. 

Jaime shook his head. "Not from the house, and not without help from the Red Keep." He chuckled grimly. "Looks like I've only delayed their execution and guaranteed mine in the process unless we find a way to get them out." Ned startled at the use of _mine_ instead of _our_ , and Jaime didn't miss it. "Don't worry Ned, I won't take you down with me if I'm found out. At least one of Rhaegar children should get to live, though I'd consider telling the truth to your wife. Women don't like being betrayed, and they don't like raising their husband's bastards." He looked at Ned in the eye. "Get some rest, I'll find you tomorrow. We both need to sleep if we are to come up with a plan."

He left as quietly as he had come in, and Ned went back to bed though he was sure he wouldn't be sleeping any time soon. 

…

Ned was already late to break his fast the next morning when he was waylaid by the Master of Whispers. He hadn't been able to fall back asleep for a long while after Jaime had left his rooms, and when he had finally done it dawn was peeking on the horizon. Now he felt sluggish and not at all rested, and the last thing he wanted was to speak with Lord Varys, but he had seen no way to refuse him after Varys had said he had received a raven from Winterfell. 

"You could have just brought it with you, Lord Varys," Ned said, irritated while he followed Varys to wherever it was taking him. He didn't like the man, Ned's first instinct was always to mistrust a person dealing in secrets and rumours, and Varys had already been in the position with Aerys, which made his allegiance suspicious.

"I could, but the walls of the Red Keep have ears, Lord Stark, haven't you been warned?" he said, ignoring the fact that those ears were more likely his little birds, and then kept silent until they were alone in a small room between two corridors Ned would have been unable to find on his own. The moment they were behind closed doors, Varys dropped the cheerful facade and whirled on him. "You and Ser Jaime are going to get yourselves, and what's worse, Elia and the children, killed."

Ned felt his blood freezing in his veins, his hand automatically falling to his sword. Varys saw the gesture and smoothed his features again, the anger that he had seen in his expression vanishing behind a bland smile. "No need for that, Lord Stark. I am a friend, and you are in dire need of one."

"How?" He wanted to ask how much did Varys know? And how had he learned it? But he was the Master of Whispers, he had little birds all over the city. Hadn't the man just reminded him the very walls of the Keep were always listening? The most important fact here was Varys hadn't told anyone of their secret, or neither him nor Jaime would still be breathing.

"I went to the Princess's rooms to try to get at least one of the children out before the Lannister army destroyed the city," Varys said, confessing to his own attempt of treason and Ned felt his brows climbing up his forehead. "Imagine my surprise when I found them gone and poor Lydsa dressed with Elia's finery. I asked myself who could have got them out, who had enough knowledge of the place to do it in secrecy and love for them to risk everything? I had some of my little birds follow Ser Jaime, he's good but I've been doing this for far longer. Imagine my surprise when I heard you had gone with him." Varys fixed him with a stern look. "You're not suited for this kind of game, Lord Stark."

Ned sagged against the wall. Gods but he missed Winterfell and the straightforwardness of the people of the North, he wasn't made for intrigue, Varys had the right of it, and he definitely wasn't made for the capital. If he had accepted the position of Hand of the King like Robert wanted him to, he wouldn't last the year. "What are you going to do, Lord Varys?"

" _I'm going to help you_ ," he said, and Ned wanted to believe it. Maybe he was naive, maybe he was dooming them all, but they were out of options and the damage was already done, Varys already knew their secret. Short of killing him where he stood, which he wasn't going to do, Ned couldn't do anything but accept his help. "The ship bringing 'Elia's' remains to Dorne is going to pass by the straits of Tarth under the cover of darkness, you were right to choose the Island. I have contacted an associate of mine and a small smuggler ship will approach them there and take them to Tarth, where they can stay for some time. Ser Jaime should continue to Dorne, where he can talk to Dorian, in private, and convince him to bid his time. The realm can't afford another war," Varys said mirroring Ned's words from the night before, and he dared believe they might have found an ally.

Maybe they would survive, after all.

…

By the time Ned retired that night, he was ready to just grab Jon and head to Winterfell as fast as possible. The troops they had taken had already been sent back to their keeps, the Lannister army marching back to the Westerlands and the Baratheons, except for a small contingent who were staying and reforming the Gold Cloaks, going back to the Stornlands. The Northern's armies had begun the march back as soon as Robert had taken the Crown.

Ned had had not time to spend with Jon, which was the reason he had the squirming baby crying in his arms now. He had already been fed and changed and should be settling to sleep, except he wasn't, and Ned hadn't spent enough time with babes to be able to do anything about it but fret. 

"Give him here, Ned," Jaime said appearing again out of thin air. Ned whirled around with a glare, which only made Jaime's smirk grown. "Unless you intend to keep the entire castle up tonight?"

Jaime also looked the worse for wear when Ned approached him, in spite of his words the previous night it was obvious he hadn't had any sleep either. Ned handed Jon to him, remembering how he had behaved with Rhaenys, and saw how Jaime's features immediately relaxed, his arms cradling Jon with a surety Ned lacked. He whispered some words Ned couldn't hear as he rocked softly, and Jon quieted down immediately. "Tyrion was like that when he was a babe," Jaime said, his voice soft and fond, "the moment the wet nurse put him down to sleep, he would start fussing. He didn't like being alone in his room, so I would sneak in when father and Cersei weren't paying attention, and hold him until he was asleep." There were too many things to consider in that simple sentence, Ned decided not to say anything. The more he learned about Lannisters, the more he was shocked to realize how different Jaime was from his father and sister. "I want to thank you, Ned. You kept your word."

It hadn't been exactly easy, Ned had spoken to Robert in the morning and convinced him to get rid of Jaime. He didn't want an Oathbreaker guarding him, surely, and Tywin wanted his heir back, so he wouldn't lose the Lannister support. Robert had nodded and acknowledged the truth of it but had still resisted. "The Queen wants her brother here, with her," he had said with a shrug, "and he wants to stay with his sister."

"That's more Lannisters that I feel comfortable around, you know their first loyalty is always to their own family." Robert had looked disgruntled at that. "I wonder how the Kingslayer will react if you do anything to dishonour his sister."

Using that name had felt odd in his mouth after everything he had learned in the past few days; that was the name for a man without honour, not for one who had saved half a million lives at the expense of his. 

"He'll have to deal with it," Robert had said, irritated. "He wants to stay, and his sister wants him by her side."

"I see I was right to be concerned," Ned had said with a sigh, using his last card and knowing the effect it was going to have. Robert was prideful, and this was certain to sting that pride. "I was thinking Robert Baratheon was King, not Cersei and Jaime Lannister."

And that had been it, though his ears had been ringing for an hour after Robert's temper tamtrum.

"And you're still alright with this?" Ned asked Jaime shrugged minutely. 

"She tried to convince me that if I begged the King, he'd allow me to stay," he said this as if it was nothing, but Ned could hear a thread of pure fury and devastation in it. "That it was what I wanted. _I almost did_." He looked down at the sleeping babe in his arms and Ned pointed to the crib, where he put his down. He didn't want to think what charms had Cersei used to convince her brother, he didn't want to consider his suspicions to be true. "But we have other things to discuss."

They did, Ned didn't know how he was going to react, but he needed to know. "Lord Varys knows." Jaime tensed, his eyes growing wide on his face and his hands clenching on the side of the crib until his knuckles went white. "He found me today and informed me we were going to get ourselves killed, and that he was going to help us get everyone to Tarth."

Ned related their conversation of that morning, what Varys had said about taking one of the children and how he had planned to smuggle everyone into and out of the ship. 

"Lord Varys, that spider." Was all Jaime said, but some of the tension had left his body. "The ship is sailing in the morning, I need to find a way to get in it."

"Make it your last duty as a Kingsguard," Ned said, he had thought of it and it sounded like something a prideful lion would do. "You were supposed to be guarding them and let them down, it should be you who takes her to her family."

Jaime considered it for a moment. "Yes, and from there I will sail back to Lannisport, I haven't seen Tyrion in too long." he started at Ned for a moment. "I won't speak to you tomorrow, not in front of everyone. I want to thank you."

Ned frowned. "What for?"

"For asking."

He remembered how the mask of pride and indifference had cracked when he had asked why he had done it. Nobody else had asked, nobody else had cared. He almost hadn't, believing only what he had seen without looking further than Jaime's family name. He didn't want to think what would have happened if he didn't.

"No thanks needed, Ser Jaime."

"Goodbye, Lord Stark."

…

There was a whole pantomime involved in getting the coffins with the bodies of the princess and her children in the ship, Robert and Cersei in full regalia watching soberly from the harbour, Ser Barristan Selmy dressed in white behind them. Ned noted the absence of Jaime but didn't comment, Varys on the other side of them was looking straight ahead, not acknowledging Ned at all.

Jaime didn't arrive until it was the moment for the ship to remove the plank and set sail, he strode through the harbour in Kingsguard's white, one last act of defiance since he had already been dismissed, his spine straight and his chin up, cloaked in the arrogance of his family, and before anyone could stop him he was on the ship. 

"This will be my last duty as Kingsguard, to bring home the princess I couldn't protect," he said, loud and clear from the deck of the ship, challenging, his eyes flinty when he regarded Robert, voice cold as any winter snow. It was the perfect performance. He turned around and went further into the ship while the plank was removed and it departed from the harbour. 

Ned bit his lips to prevent a smile at Jaime's theatrics, and chanced a look at Robert and Cersei. His heart stopped in his chest at their expressions; Robert looked chagrined but Cersei looked horrified and devastated. Like she had just been told of the death of a beloved one.

She turned to Robert and hissed at him, and if Ned hadn't been next to them he wouldn't have heard. Not that she appeared to care. " _You have to stop them, now!"_

" _I can't, it was your father's plan."_ Robert hissed back. " _He wasn't supposed to be on the ship._ "

Ned turned to the ship and realized then how little he knew about his friend and how little he was suited for intrigue. It had never crossed his mind at all that Robert, the boy he had grown up with and who had been his best friend for so many years could do something like this, but that boy hadn't been King. And this King was willing to do terrible things to keep his new Crown.

He darted a quick look at Varys and saw the same realization in his eyes. 

That ship was never going to make it to Dorne.

…


	4. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were a couple of people who guessed where I was going with this, and well, what can I say, I'm pretty obvious, hope it's worth reading anyway XD

It was by pure chance they made it out of the ship and to Tarth.

It was the first night of their trip and being cooped up in the cabin was proving to be too much for Rhaenys, who was, as ever, a bundle of energy. She had been driving her mother insane, and she was getting on Jaime's last nerve as well, loath as he was to show it.

"Rhaenys, please quiet down for a bit," Elia begged her, a pained frown on her face. It was clear she also wanted to be out, and the air would do her some good for the headache she obviously had. They had been confined to the house in the Street of Silk for days, only to be moved to this tiny cabin in the ship until they could get to Tarth.

Once they were there Varys had arranged a little cottage in the shadow of Evenfall Hall, because according to the Spider the safest place was always right under the Lord's noses. "It's the last place anyone will look for them," he had said, and Jaime had found no argument against that.

It had not sat well with him accepting help from Varys; Jaime hated the idea of being in his debt, knowing one day he would have to pay it back like the Lannister he was. Jaime might not be as shrewd as his father and sister, but he knew enough about the game of thrones to be wary of entering it. This was what he got for having a conscience, Tyrion would have said with a laugh, before reading a story of some knight or conqueror for him.

He really missed his brother sometimes, more now that it looked like his separation from Cersei was definitive.

He missed her, had missed her every day for the past two years. Missed his best friend and confidante, missed the other half of his soul. But he had realized that it had been more than two years missing her; it had been since the moment she had been sent to court, the moment she had first believed she would be Queen. She had changed then, or maybe it had been even before then, maybe it had been Melara's death what was the turning point.

She had been driven then, intent in turning into the perfect Lady. Where before she wanted to switch places with him for a taste of freedom, and how much fun it had been for Jaime to learn embroidery and put on his sister's dresses sometimes, now she just tried to be better saying that as Queen she would have to be perfect. She had still come to him at night, had still kissed him and told him they would always be together, while at the same time she was preparing to leave him. But it had been for duty, it had been his father's ambition even if she was giddy at the idea of marrying Rhaegar.

Except she hadn't, Elia had, and Jaime remembered Cersei's fury and bitterness.

He also remembered how she had come to him that night in the inn dressed as a serving wench, how for him it was an unacceptable duty to marry and perpetuate the family name, how she had destroyed all his objections to joining the Kingsguard with her hands and mouth and body. He remembered how by the end of the night he didn't know up from down or right from left, but he knew her, knew her smell and taste and her feel all over him. And if he had to renounce to Casterly Rock to keep that, well, it was a small price to pay to be together, to be whole.

Besides, Tyrion would be a great Lord.

How naive he had been, she had used the same trick again during his last night in the Keep. Using her body to convince him they belonged together, they were two parts of a whole. Every time Jaime insisted they could be together somewhere else, she would kiss him, or take him into her mouth, or into her body, and remind him this was what he wanted. White cloak and celibacy while she married and got her Crown. It might have worked, again, were it not for her words the night before. How she had told him she cared for nothing but her Crown, not even he.

She only wanted him if she could have it all, wasn't willing to renounce anything for him. "I won't beg your husband for the privilege to serve him," he had finally said, both of them still covered in sweat. "He only sits on the throne because of me. If you really love me as you say, you can love me in Essos. Just the two of us, the way it should be, remember?"

Cersei had pushed him from her bed then. "You really are selfish, you're like all men. You don't care for anything but you. Get dressed and get out." She had sneered at him, and for the first time in his life, Jaime had thought her ugly. "Keep your honour and your pride, whatever you have left of it. You'll crawl back to me soon enough."

He had been surprised at her venom but had left and gone straight to Ned's rooms, and there, having little Jon in his arms he'd realized she didn't really love him. Not the way he loved her. Not if the Crown was more important.

But her expression as he came into the ship, that terrified look on her face, that he couldn't understand. Why was she scared of him leaving? Did she fear him finding himself a wife now he could and forgetting her? He would need to, eventually, but now the wound was still too raw.

"Jaime, Jaime, don't be sad, I won't scream anymore," Rhaenys said pulling on his cloak and giving him the saddest eyes he'd ever seen. He found a smile for the girl and lifted her up to his knees.

"I'm not sad, Rhaenys," he lied, very badly if her pout was any indication. "I'm not sad because you are screaming." He corrected.

"Is because we can't go back home? Mom says we'll go see uncle Doran and uncle Oberyn later."

Jaime shot Elia a look. They had discussed it and she hadn't liked the idea of hiding away from Dorne. "It's just until Robert stops sending assassins, everything we've done and risked will be for nought if he finds us now," Jaime had promised. "I'll go to Dorne and tell your brother, and he can come to visit you. _Discreetly_." She had reluctantly agreed, though he knew it didn't sit well with her being stuck like this in Tarth. "I'm sorry, this is not what I promised you when I got you out."

She had looked infinitely sad then. "It's not your fault, Ser Jaime. We would be dead if not for you. Nobody cared about us while we were there, not even my husband, nobody except you. And I am grateful. But I miss my brothers."

"I miss mine as well." But he had known he would be seeing Tyrion soon, whereas Elia would be in Tarth for some time yet.

He bounced Rhaenys for a bit until she was giggling again, and then dropped her on the floor and stood up. "I'm going to bring some food and water, it will hopefully help with your headache."

"Thank you, Ser Jaime."

He went outside, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the briny smell of the sea. It was one of the things he also missed from Casterly Rock, in King's Landing everything stank of shit and sweat and rot, even with the sea so close it was difficult to smell anything beyond the sheer humanity crowded in the streets. Lannisport was a big town, but not as dirty or crowded as King's Landing.

He wasn't going to miss that city, it had brought him nothing but misery. He'd heard Tarth was beautiful, the Sapphire Island, land of eternal spring with verdant hills and beautiful beaches and the most astonishing azure waters. Maybe he should visit with Tyrion. He looked to the side of the ship; they were entering the straits, where Varys had told him his friend's smuggling ship would approach them once night had fallen, and Jaime scanned the horizon hoping to see something of the island.

The sun was setting and a ship was approaching, but it was too big for a smuggling ship, and approaching too fast and in the open. He straightened up immediately, a sinking feeling in his gut. Both his father and sister had always reminded him it was a good thing he was an extraordinary swordsman and strategist, but that he wasn't cunning enough for the game. Stupid, that was what they had called him. _Stupid_.

And he had just proven them right by coming aboard a death trap.

He knew now what that look on Cersei's face had meant.

He took to a run, descending again to the cabin where Elia was. "Didn't they have anything, Ser Jaime?" Elia asked, seeing his empty hands.

"Get ready we have to move, _now_."

She sat up on the cot. "So early? I thought it would be after night fell."

Jaime wanted to laugh. "It's not them, it's pirates. They're going to sink this ship." Hadn't he thought the Martell's would declare war if Elia was returned in that state to them? Why would he believe his father hadn't realized the same even if he hadn't looked at the corpse long enough to see it wasn't Elia? Tywin was many things, but naive wasn't one of them, he had known and acted accordingly. The lives of everyone on the ship mattered little to him, at least until Jaime had boarded it unexpectedly.

He took Rhaenys in his arms as he ran to the main deck, the pirate ship was much closer than before, which mean it was happening now. There was no time. He grabbed a piece of rope coiled on the deck and quickly tied Rhaenys to his body, the girl must have felt the panic and tension that was now spreading over the entire ship, because she clung to him like a limpet. He turned to Elia and did the same for her and Aegon. "We have to jump, we have a chance in the water with the smugglers coming for us, and none in the ship."

She nodded, her eyes wide and terrified, and took his hand. Jaime looked for the most likely place for them to jump, around them the sailors weren't paying attention to anything but the ship approaching them, word of it clearly had reached everyone. They were all getting ready to fight, completely ignoring the people who should not be there.

They were getting ready to jump when Jaime saw another ship approaching. It wasn't a big boat, little more than a skiff, but it was painted in dark colours and in the fading light it was hard to see, but it was fast. Jaime pointed at it, "There, that's our ship." They jumped, the shock of the cold water robbing Jaime of breath, Rhaenys's hands tightening around his neck. He pushed up and they broke the surface, his eyes scanning for Elia frantically until he could see her dark head nearby. The ship they had just jumped from kept moving away, threatening to pull them under and Jaime swam as hard as he could in the other direction, hoping Rhaenys was ok but unable to check on her.

He was fished out of the water barely a minute after he had entered it, and he landed on the deck of the skiff, Elia pulling at the rope by his side with trembling hands. "He's not breathing," she cried. Jaime pushed to his knees and moved to her side, the two men who had rescued them by Elia's side already. One of them put Aegon's little body on the deck and pressed on his chest, compressing it at the same time he blew some air into his tiny lungs like Jaime had seen once in Lannisport when a fisherman had almost drowned. At the helm, a third man was turning the skiff around, leaving as quickly and soundlessly as they had arrived.

The main ship was now being boarded by pirates, the screams of the men and the sounds of fighting loud on the silent sea. Jaime cursed his father and that cunt Robert for this, for killing innocent people to cover up their own crimes. The irony was, he was sure his father had tried to stop it the moment he knew Jaime was in the ship even if it meant war with the Martells, Tywin cared for little but his legacy.

And now his legacy was as good as dead.

"You're lucky the little birds fly fast," one of the men told Jaime, helping him up and untying a squirming and crying Rhaenys. "We were told to rush to the straits and approach you immediately if we saw another ship. We saw that other ship."

"Thank you," Jaime croaked, flopping back down to the deck. Now the moment of panic was gone, he was feeling woozy and unsteady, and his stomach was churning.

The man just nodded and handed him a towel to dry himself.

"Rest now, we're not making land until the hour of the wolf."

Jaime let his eyes close, dropped his head on the deck, and did as he was told.

...

The clearing outside the cottage was Jaime's favourite place to practice with his sword, and it was usually deserted at this time in the evening.

Cottage was a misnomer, Jaime had been expecting a small rustic house where they would be cramped and unhappy, but this was the kind of house rich merchants had in harbour towns, as far removed from the hovel where he had stashed them in King's Landing and it was from the Red Keep itself. That was lucky for both Jaime and Elia, who would have probably found their exile in Tarth a lot harder if they didn't have plenty of gold at their disposal.

They had been living there for almost two years already, and though it had taken time, Jaime could say he was content. He was almost happy. _Almost_.

He had decided in the skiff that if his family was so eager to kill for power, then he wanted no part of it. And his father had given him the perfect opportunity to disappear. Jaime Lannister was dead, and he took a sick sense of satisfaction imagining his father's face when he was told he had orchestrated his heir's death just when he had got him back.

It was the only satisfaction he had those first days.

"You're a widow from Braavos," they had agreed on a story during the trip to Tarth, both of them laying on the deck and looking at the dark sky. The sounds of battle and screams of the sailors and pirates had already faded, the ship still sinking slowly in the distance, but there was nobody alive in the water. Probably another of Tywin's instructions. "Your husband was a rich merchant and left you lots of gold, so you're not looking to marry again. I'm a sellsword you've hired for your protection."

She had turned her head to look at him, Aegon asleep on her chest, Rhaenys curled against her side. "We're staying here, are we not?" She asked, but her tone was resigned. She understood now.

"You've seen the lengths they'll go to. It's better this way, until he's a bit older at least."

She had nodded, silent tears rolling down her face. She was saying goodbye to her brothers. "What are our names?"

"As close to the truth as possible, Rhaenys is too young for subterfuge, she will trip on different names," Jaimes had said because he had thought about it when he took them out for the first time. "Eliza, though we will call you Eli. Rina and Egdar, who we'll call Egg for short. Jay for me, Jay Hill. If anyone questions my looks that would make them think I'm the bastard of some Lannister. There are plenty to choose from."

She had nodded and then closed her eyes and ignored him the rest of the way. She pretty much ignored him for the first sennight, same as he ignored her. It might have been a petty thing to do, but they were both mourning their old lives and needed the time. They had installed themselves in the house, which had plenty of rooms for all of them, there were also a couple of servants already in the house who had been informed of their arrival if not their identities.

The first thing Jaime did was get rid of this white clothing and acquire the dark boiled leather of a sellsword, nothing in crimson that would remind him of his past life. He was a Hill now, and bastards didn't wear Lannister colours. He also got his hair cut and stopped shaving, hoping that a bit of a beard would make him look older and less like himself. Elia had seen him after a sennight, patches of irregular golden hair poking out of his chin and jaw, and cracked a smile for the first time since they arrived.

That was the moment she started talking to him again, accepting they were there to stay and that they should make the best of it.

For the first couple of moons, they did nothing but play with the children and visit the town occasionally. All their needs were covered, the servants took care of having always food in the house and buying anything they required, from clothing to new swords. Soon it became too much, too boring, not even Rhaenys was able to keep her spirits up being always in the house, and with Aegon starting to walk there was much running around after him.

Jaime knew they were the town's gossip; two young and beautiful people with small children. The last thing he had heard, he had killed Elia's husband and they had run away together, and the children were his.

Nobody suspected the truth, and that served them well.

Jaime had taken to going to the clearing to practice with his sword in the mornings, and after the second time Rhaenys had followed him, he had started teaching her. Soon, some of the merchant's sons and daughters had started coming to their clearing, and Jaime was now the unofficial Master at Arms of the town. At least of those lowborn who couldn't go to Evenfall to learn. It was good, it kept him entertained and ingrained them in the life of the town. Nothing gave life quicker to more rumours than them keeping isolated. At the same time, Elia had made friends with a few of their neighbours, merchants daughters and wives who had little more to do than gossip and embroider, and they spent the mornings decorating clothes and gossiping while they drank tea.

"According to the gossip your sister is with child," she told him one day, and Jaime had not been able to contain his flinch.

It had been well over a year since they had been there and still, Jaime sometimes missed Cersei. Elia and he were only friends, in spite of the rumours they allowed to circulate. Jaime loved her but not in that way, she loved her the same way he loved Tyrion, the way he knew should have loved Cersei, like a sister. Elia had slipped into his bed once, and Jaime had gently rebuffed her and convinced her his help didn't have a price. She had been more relieved than embarrassed.

There were nights in which Jaime closed his eyes and could see Cersei, golden and beautiful, her naked body glistening with sweat the way it had been in the inn. Those days he ached for her and would take himself in hand and relive those moments. There were other days when he remembered her face when she told him to get out, how she had looked at him with hatred for not bending to her will and would curse himself for a fool for missing her. Most of the time he didn't know whether he loved or hated her. What he knew was that he hadn't met another woman that aroused him, none of the merchant's daughters and even wives who had tried to catch his attention, or the seamstress or servants from the neighbouring houses. It could be Cersei was really the only woman for him, but the more time he spent away from her, the less he wanted that to be true.

He was heading to the clearing to burn some excess energy, even though the hour was late, because Elia had come back with more news.

"You are an uncle now," she had said, her mouth twisted in disgust. "The heir to the Crown, Joffrey Baratheon." It should have been her child, after everything she had suffered under Aerys, it should have been her child.

Jaime had felt his gut clenching, his heart taking up a rapid tattoo on his chest and suddenly he needed to beat on something. And here he was, in the clearing, except there was someone already there, whacking at one of the trees with a sword.

Jaime stared at her, because in spite of the height it had to be a woman to be wearing a dress like that, and one from the richer parts of town. The dress was silk and lace, in pale pink, and it was bursting at the seams of the wide back he could see. He could also see she wasn't just hitting wildly at the tree, she had good posture and strength, the hits controlled and precise. It was still too wild, probably an emotional outburst the kind Jaime wanted to have on his own as well.

"What has that tree done to you?" he asked in his most sardonic voice.

The woman turned around and Jaime adjusted his expectation on a few things. It was obvious she needed to be hitting something more than just a tree if the tears running down her face were any indication. Also, this was no woman but a girl. And she was as ugly as she was tall, with a wide face covered in freckles, big juicy lips on a wide mouth full of crooked teeth, and a flat nose she had probably broken at least one. She had pale blonde hair, but it had not been styled in the careful way Cersei used to style hers, it had been braided but lacked any kind of shape, curl or grace, some tufts of hair escaping the braid in any direction. She was also flat chested and had no waist to speak off. He hoped the poor girl's father had plenty of money because it wouldn't be her own charms what got her married.

She stared at him, and then wiped the tears from her eyes hurriedly. Jaime saw them then, she had remarkable eyes. The most beautiful he had seen, the same colour as the waters surrounding the island. _The Gods truly have a sense of humour,_ he thought, _putting the most astonishing eyes on the ugliest face_.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, her voice trembling while she tried to regain to calm.

"I could ask the same," Jaime said and saw how the girl frowned, as if that was a weird question and Jaime was supposed to know who she was. "But considering the estate you're in, I need to ask you first if you are alright?"

She sniffled and nodded, but said nothing.

"Have you been attacked?"

"No," she flushed darkly and Jaime suspected then it had something to do with her appearance. Probably some of the boys around town had insulted her.

He wasn't going to press, not right now, so he changed tactics. "You have some skill with a blade, I can see," he said, and her posture relaxed immediately.

"Are you a Knight, ser?" she asked, and now she wasn't crying so hard he re-evaluated things again. She was probably highborn, with that kind of diction and courtesy. Which begged the question, who had let a highborn lady learn to use a blade?

"Do I look like a Knight?" he asked, mocking, unwilling to let the lie past his lips. It had been his proudest moment, being Knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne, and he would not deny it.

She looked him up and down and a faint flush came over her face; he knew what he looked like, even now he wasn't Cersei's mirror anymore. He knew his short golden hair and golden beard, which had finally grown, made him look older than his nine and ten years, and that his boiled leather attire looked used and inexpensive, as befitting to a sellsword. He also knew most women found him attractive, judging by the number of invitations he received and rejected.

"I know how to fight, I've been teaching some of the town's children, do you want to spar with me?"

She nodded, eagerly, still tongue-tied, and Jaime picked up his own sword and took his stance. They touched swords before squaring off, and the girl's posture was excellent, so was her footwork when they started circling each other. After the first few passes, Jaime adjusted his technique, he wasn't going against a green squire, this girl was a natural, almost as good as Jaime had been at her age. He had had better teachers and had been squired with other Knights, so he had had chances to learn from more than one person, but this girl was truly unique.

He could see how she came alive as their swords clashed, her spine straightening, her eyes shining, and like this they were the only thing o her face, outshining even the waters of Tarth. They hit high and low, their swords meeting more often than not, the clash of metal loud in the clearing. Jaime was better and had more stamina, but that was only thanks to his experience and years of fighting. He was loath to finish the spar, though, hadn't had this much fun in years, since before being appointed for the Kingsguard. When he began to pant and the girl's face was flushed with effort, he struck and disarmed her, driving her to her knees in a couple of moves.

"Do you yield?" he asked, and his voice was breathless with effort and satisfaction.

"I yield," she said and smiled, showing all her crooked teeth.

Jaime sat on the ground next to her. "You're very good, how old are you?"

"Three and ten," she said, flushing again. She wore every thought and emotion on her face and was probably unused to compliments.

"Are you feeling better now? What was wrong?" Her face fell suddenly, and she looked down to the ground. "You don't have to tell me."

"He threw a rose at me and said I wouldn't get anything else from him," she said, her voice choked with tears. "That I was too ugly to wed."

Jaime stared at her, stunned at the cruelty of men and boys. She was ugly, yes, but she was only a girl, there was no need to wound her like that when a plain rejection was painful enough. "Who was it?" If it was one of the town's boys that came to him to learn, Jaime was going to teach them manners until they learned how to treat ladies.

"My betrothed, Ser Ronnet Connington." Jaime startled at the name. Connington was a good family, even after Jon had been exiled by Aerys, they wouldn't be making disadvantageous matches, so for him to have been betrothed to her, she had to be highborn. And not just from a minor house in Tarth.

"Who are you?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

There was one family Elia and he tried to avoid because they were the only ones who could recognize them, faint as the possibility was. Selwyn Tarth had been in Harrenhal, had seen both Elia and Jaime there, and though it had been a few years and they had changed their appearance, they wanted to avoid recognition. He remembered Ned's words about the man, and knew that he was probably safe, but couldn't risk it. Not when it would put in danger not only his little family here in Tarth, because that was what they were now, a family. It would also endanger the Tarths.

The girl frowned at him, as if he should already know that, and Jaime swore under his breath. "I'm Brienne of Tarth, the daughter of the Evenstar."

...


	5. Interludes

**Interlude 1 - The Wolf**

Catelyn waited for him in the courtyard, Robb in her arms squirming and gurgling impatiently as if he knew his father was about to arrive. Robb still didn't know his father, had been born while Ned was away, fighting a war that had benefited everyone except for the North. 

Cat wasn't naive, she knew enough of what had happened to know the North had to fight, Ned had to fight. It was his father and brother who had been murdered by the Mad King, his sister who had been kidnapped by the prince. Cat had been betrothed to Brandon before he died but it had been his brother who married her to ensure the Tully alliance. She had been fond of Brandon, though it wasn't love what they shared. It could have grown into it, the same as she was sure it could grow with Ned. But love and marriage were like flowers, they didn't just need to be planted, they needed to be tended carefully for them to grow. 

They had done their duty before he left for the battle and she marched North, and Ned had been gentle and shy, something that had endeared him to her. It said good things of their union that she was with child when she arrived in Winterfell, and the Northerners had accepted her with as much warmth as they were able to. She couldn't wait to have him back, though, to get to know this man who had given her a beautiful child and who she hoped to learn how to love. 

Now he was here and Cat couldn't help the way her heart fell when he saw that the rumours were true, he had come back to her with a bastard child in his arms. Everyone had told her Ned was different from Robert, that he wouldn't be laying with whores and drinking his life away, but the only difference she could see was that Ned hadn't left his bastard behind.

"My Lord," she said when he stopped before her, curtseying briefly. 

"Cat," he smiled tiredly at her. "I'm so glad to be home. I should never leave Winterfell again."

She couldn't help the quick look at the babe in his arms, just a few moons younger than Robb, and she felt a stab of anger. She had spent the time alone in his home, dreaming of it being their home for their family, while he played at war and betrayed her. And now she also had to endure the disrespect of him bringing his bastard here to be brought up with his other children.

"Meet your trueborn son, my Lord, Robb Stark." She couldn't help the ice in her voice and eyes, but instead of the irritated or even guilty look she was expecting, Ned looked amused and wistful. It made her angrier.

"Jaime was right," he mumbled, and were it not for their proximity she wouldn't have heard. "I hope he likes me more than his brother," he said out loud and signalled for the wet nurse to come and take the babe from his arms. 

Cat saw him, saw how much he looked like Ned than her own son and bit her tongue, her stomach churning.

Ned took Robb from her arms, smiling down at him. Robb immediately grabbed his long locks with his pudgy arms and started pulling. "I'm very sorry, my lady, for the dishonour I brought with me," he said, not looking at her but at Robb, who was smiling his gummy smile and gurgling happily. "I hope you can find it in you to forgive me and open our house to Jon."

"As my lord commands," she said, the words sticking to her throat. 

He looked up and there was a pleading look in his eyes. "Thank you, my lady."

They went inside, Ned taking over his duties as Lord of Winterfell, and Cat felt the dream that had sustained her for the past year disappear. How could she love a man who had betrayed her the moment she was out of sight? She knew it was common, knew that Robert had been planting his seed in all Seven Kingdoms like an overeager gardener, but had hoped for something better for herself. 

She couldn't bring herself to be more than coldly polite to her husband all the way through dinner, she would have to swallow her pride sooner or later and start building her life with him, it was her duty, but at least she deserved one day of selfishness and fury.

"My Lady, walk with me?" Ned asked her after dinner. They hadn't exchanged more than ten words, though with the entirety of the North vying for his attention she doubted anyone but Ned had noticed. 

Cat nodded and took his proffered arm. They went outside of the castle, the bitter cold air biting at her face, and walked all the way to the Godswood.

The Weirdwood had freaked her out when she arrived, with the strange-faced tree with the red leaves but after a while, she had found the place soothing. She still worshipped the Seven, though the Old Gods held sway this far up north. "This is one of the few sites where we won't be overheard in Winterfell," Ned started sitting down by the tree. He gestured to her, who gingerly took a seat next to him. "I have learned recently that the walls have ears, and there are little birds willing to sing everywhere."

"You've been too long in King's Landing," she blurted out because those were the words one would utter in court, not up in the North where the only birds that sung were ravens.

"Mayhaps you're right, it certainly felt too long to me." He grabbed her hand hesitatingly and she was tempted to pull it free, but just for a second. She allowed it, it was cold after all, and he'd keep it warm. "Tell me, Cat, what news came from the south."

"You left after the wedding, didn't you?" She said because that's what he had said in his raven. "I heard it was a miserable affair considering the Queen's brother had just died, and that the only person who enjoyed himself was Robert."

Ned sighed. "They should have postponed it, but it was indeed Tywin who insisted to continue with it. Robert got drunk, Cersei looked beautiful and fragile and dead inside, and nobody remembered to invite Tyrion Lannister," he finally said, his distaste for the Lannisters obvious in his voice. Cat shared it, she had shared some dinners with them while his father and Tywin discussed a possible betrothal between Jaime and Lysa, and she had wondered who had looked more horrified of the two. "But I meant from before, what news of the end of the war you received?"

She didn't know what he was aiming at but responded either way. "The Lannister army sacked King's Landing and Tywin's son killed the King, Princess Elia and her children also died in the sacking. Robert has named Jon Arryn his Hand and married Tywin's daughter." That was too many Lannisters in power, they were a ruthless family. One less now that Jaime had died. "Tywin's son died when the ship transporting Elia's remains to Dorne sunk, it's said it was Targaryen loyalists in revenge for killing the King. Those are the news that came here." And you fathered a bastard somewhere during the war, she didn't say. "Is there something I should have learned more than this?"

Ned shook his head, and she could tell there was something weighing on him. Something heavy. He squeezed her hand. "There are things that if spoken out loud, could put our family in danger. Important things, things you should be aware of, but they endanger everyone who knows them." He was giving her a choice, and if she preferred safety over the truth, he would not speak of this again, she was certain. She nodded. Whatever it was, she preferred to know. Ned smiled at her, his eyes remote for an instant. "Jaime said no woman likes raising her husband's bastard, and he was right."

She frowned at the words, it was the second time Ned had said that name, and there was only one person he could be referring to. " _The Kingslayer_?" she said, even this far North the name had reached. 

"Ser Jaime, yes," he looked at her, his grey eyes grave. "What I'm about to tell you could get us all killed for treason. I need to know you won't repeat this to another soul."

"I swear."

Ned took a deep breath. "When we arrived at the Throne Room Ser Jaime was there, his sword still dripping with the King's blood. Robert took the Throne immediately, and a short time later Tywin Lannister came in with the bodies of Elia's children," he looked sad and disturbed as he was telling this, though he had probably seen worse horrors during the war, this particular act had hit him harder. "You can't imagine the level of brutality, they had smashed the babes against the walls, crushed their heads and then raped the mother and murdered her. It was Clegane, the Mountain, under Lannister orders." She could believe that she could believe it of Tywin Lannister, and was very glad her sister had managed to avoid tying herself to that family of monsters. "Robert was happy about that, his satisfaction evident on his face. And then he ordered for men to be sent to kill the rest of the Targaryen children."

Cat could see how much Ned had been disappointed by his friend but wasn't sure why he was telling her this. She didn't interrupt him, though. 

"You have to understand, knowing what Robert would do to any Targaryen children, what he had said he'd do to them once he was King, I couldn't risk it." 

"What are you saying?" she asked, because suddenly an idea was taking form in her mind, one that fit better with who she had believed Ned was. 

"He would have killed him if he'd known, so I called Jon mine and refused to name the mother."

Cat could hardly breathe. " _Who was the mother_?" she asked, her voice thin and reedy. 

"Lyanna."

 _Oh, Seven_ , they had the legitimate heir of the throne bundled into one of the nurseries, and if the King found out he'd declare them traitors. But none of that mattered. Cat felt the tears running down her face before she could control them. "He's not yours." _You have not betrayed me,_ she couldn't say.

 _"He is now."_

Cat didn't know where she got the courage from, but she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Ned's, chastely and sweetly. She had really married a good man. "He's the heir of the throne."

"No, he's not." Ned stared at her with grave eyes, "Elia and the children are still alive, and so is Jaime Lannister. We barely got them out and into safety before Tywin sunk their ship." 

That was when Cat finally realized the scope of what Ned was telling her. This wasn't them protecting a baby, this was part of the game, and they had just become pieces on the board. Cat shuddered, she didn't want that. Had never wanted it, which was the reason she had been happy to be married to the Starks, the most straightforward family in the realm. But they weren't just straightforward, they were also honourable. And they would act accordingly. 

This was what Ned hadn't wanted to tell her, why he had warned her and gave her a choice. "We don't say anything to anyone, not even the kids," she said. "Jon is your bastard son, that's all there is to it."

"Of course," Ned agreed. "And we have a choice, if and when Aegon presses his claim for the Throne, or more likely Doran Martell does it for him, we can stay neutral."

She looked at him with a sad smile. "Eddard Stark, you can no more stay neutral than you could before, not when your family is on the line."

"We'll bide our time, the North is too far to involve itself with the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms regularly," he finally said. "And when the time comes, we'll act as duty and honour demands."

He didn't say if it was his duty to his King and friend, or to his family and honour. 

Only time would tell. 

...

**Interlude 2 - The Spider**

Varys looked at the scroll in his hand and considered whether this was information worth passing along to the King or whether it was better to keep it for himself. It pertained Aery's children, Viserys and Daenerys, and could be potentially damaging for them.

Two years since he had taken the throne and Robert was still obsessed with finding the last of the Targaryen, not so much to ensure his reign went uncontested but for stupid, petty revenge for Lyanna's death. His eyes were focused on the wrong place, though, and it was going to cost him dearly. 

While it was true that Viserys had a better claim on the throne than anyone else after Rhaegar's death, he was Aerys's child and most people would be wary to put the son of a monster on the throne lest he showed the same signs of madness. Robert didn't need to fear him, he would never get the necessary support to take the throne from him.

The real threat to Robert was much closer, and he was blind to it. Varys had made sure of it. 

It was a dangerous thing to have the person controlling the flow of information working against you, not that Varys was going to enlighten Robert, not after everything he'd done.

Varys has been the one who got Elia and the children on the ship that day, grateful that Jaime Lannister had got them out of the Keep when he did. He wasn't proud to say he had never paid attention to the boy, not the way he should have. Oh, he knew plenty about him, because he was Tywin's heir and Varys knew the value of information. He had known about his relationship with his sister, and how she had manipulated him and Aerys into naming him for the Kingsguard. She was as ambitious and cunning as her father, and Jaime seemed to be just another man ruled by his cock. He should have kept a closer eye on him, a fact that had become apparent when Varys had seen him beg the King to not trust his father and surrender the city and then, when all had failed, killed Aerys himself.

He had not imagined Jaime Lannister would care for anyone but his family, but he had been wrong. He had not expected him to trust a man as different from him as the honourable Ned Stark and he had also been wrong. 

He remembered being in the harbour next to the King and Queen watching the ship ready to depart, remembered watching amused how Jaime Lannister, the most unlikely player of the game, had sauntered arrogantly onto the ship. It wasn't until he saw Ned Stark's amusement turn into horror and how the face of the Queen leeched of all colour that Varys had known what they'd done. He should have known, should have accounted for Tywin's ruthlessness, but in that, he'd been as green as Jaime and Ned themselves. 

It had been the work of a morning to find out what was going to happen, but Varys had already sent word to his associates to keep a closer tail on the ship and their eyes opened for trouble. When word of the attack on the ship came, Varys had already had word that all of them were safe and sound in Tarth, so he could just enjoy the look on the Lannister's faces as the death of the Young Lion was confirmed. Tywin had retired from court shortly afterwards, making Varys's job even easier, and for what he'd heard, his remaining son's life hell. 

He put the scroll down with a sigh and made a note for one of his little birds. He'd give the note to the King tomorrow, plenty of time to warn Viserys's allies and have them moved to a different place. 

He considered what to do next, Joffrey Baratheon, the heir apparent to the crown, had been born a few moons ago. Things had changed since then, new life had been breathed into the Queen, who had been listless and as drunk as her husband for most of the past two years. Grief for her brother, people said, they were twins and loved each other very much. Too much, in Varys's opinion, but who was he to know of the passions of the flesh. He was just glad Jaime had extricated himself from her clutches, he had proved to be a good ally of the realm.

Varys's only passion and love were for the realm, and in these past years, he had been convinced Robert wasn't the best for it. He wasn't as terrible as Aerys had been, at least not in the end, he just wasn't a good man for the job. He didn't care for anything but hunting, whoring and drinking. It was Jon Arryn's job to actually govern as Hand, and it was a good thing Arryn was a good man. Varys wondered whether he could be swayed to their side; it all depended on Ned Stark, didn't it?

The problem was Ned Stark and Jon Arry were the ones who had put Robert in power, and much as they might not like him as he was right now, they loved him. And would not want any harm to come to him. He had always been more about revenge and Lyanna Stark than about the throne itself, there was a chance they could remove him peacefully from the throne. The problem was going to be Tywin and Cersei Lannister, they would not relinquish their power peacefully.

Varys needed to ensure Aegon had the support of most of the great houses, he couldn't in good conscience bring him back from exile if that meant war so soon after the last. And besides, he was still too young, just shy of his fourth name day. He wouldn't be sitting on the throne before his tenth name day, and meanwhile, Varys had time to whisper in the right ears and start moving his pieces over the board. 

This was probably the most important and most dangerous game he'd ever play. 

With a smile, Varys sat down and started drafting his plans.

...

**Interlude 3 - The Imp**

Tyrion looked at the note he had found in his book and frowned. 

It was a short note written in a script he didn't recognize, and it had somehow got into the book he was reading in the short time it had taken for him to _enjoy_ dinner with his father. He snorted, amused at his own wording; the only thing he enjoyed of those dinners was the end. 

He would not have believed it before but it was possible for his father to hate him more than he did for having been born, and the only thing he'd had to do was being alive while his brother wasn't. Tyrion also hated Tywin and for the same reasons, so those dinners had become torture, seeing his father embittered and disappointed face every day and listening to him list Tyrion's failings. He shouldn't have bothered, they could have been summed up in just one: _he wasn't Jaime._

And now Jaime was dead, and Tyrion couldn't shake the niggling feeling that Tywin knew more than he was letting on, that his hand was behind the whole thing, unthinkable as it was that Tywin would have done something to harm his heir. Even since he heard the news Tyrion had been obsessed with finding out what had happened to his brother. 

He knew Jaime had been pardoned of killing the previous King and dismissed, against his will, from the Kingsguard. He could believe that because Jaime would want to be beside Cersei, he would have hated to be removed from her side. He had always thought Tyrion didn't know what was going on between them, that he was too young to realize, but he'd known and had hated Cersei even more for the hold she had on Jaime.

He was supposed to come straight to Casterly Rock, but at the last minute Jaime had decided to jump on the ship taking Elia's body to Dorne. It was probably meant as a fuck you to the King who had dismissed him, especially if he had done it still wearing the white as Tyrion had heard. Then the ship had been attacked and everyone in it killed. 

And Tywin had come back to Casterly Rock to make Tyrion's life hell. 

It was this last fact which made Tyrion suspect his father had been the one behind the attack on the ship. Jaime wasn't supposed to be in it, he had heard about that. But the greatest proof was that Tywin hadn't rained death and destruction over anyone. Tywin Lannister, the man who had wiped the Reynes of Castamere and had the deed immortalized in song as a warning for everyone, had let the people who killed his heir just get away with it. 

He'd heard rumours that it had broken him, that Tywin had isolated himself in a fit of grief, but Tyrion didn't believe that for a moment. Tywin wasn't grieving, he would need to love for that and he hadn't loved anything or anyone since Tyrion had come to the world and killed his mother. Tywin was bitter and angry, and because he wasn't going to direct that to himself, he had taken it out on Tyrion. As if he wasn't miserable enough and missing his brother, he had had to endure almost four years of Tywin's hatred.

But now Tywin was finally going back to King's Landing; Joffrey was two and Cersei was with child again, and their illustrious father had decided it was time to indoctrinate his successor, because it was clear it wasn't going to be Tyrion, he wasn't going to allow it, on the way of the Lannisters. 

Tyrion was happy enough to see him go, he had been toying with the idea of going to the Citadel and studying as Maester, much as his father didn't want him to. But one thing he agreed with Tywin, ad it could be the only one they had agreed in their lives, was that he didn't have the temperament to serve. He had been raised as a Lion of the Rock, and Lions didn't serve sheep. 

But this note now, this note was a mystery and it pointed him into an interesting direction. 

_"The last known copy of Duncan the Tall's diaries are kept in Evenfall Hall, under the custody of the Evenstar."_

He remembered afternoons spent with Jaime, when he had finished his training and had time to play, and how they would pretend to be the Knights of legend, and how later Jaime would ask him to read some stories. Duncan the Tall had always been one of his favourites. 

He put the note to the flame, Tyrion was young but he knew about intrigue enough to know someone wanted him in Tarth and had taken pains to ensure only Tyrion would see the note, and then sat on his writing desk to write a note to the Evenstar. 

_He was going to Tarth._

...


	6. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, headcanon: Jaime is demisexual.  
> It fits for me that he has never slept with anyone except Cersei, and he has only felt aroused by Brienne, who he already had established a trust relationship when that happened.

She came back a few days after that first time like Jaime had known she would.

He had been worried that she would have recognised him, but Elia had put his worries to rest that same night during dinner. "I don't even think she was at the tournament, Jay, and if she did she would have been a girl of what, eight?" she had said with a careless shrug. They had decided to stick with their supposed names even inside of the house, one of the lessons in paranoia Varys would be very proud of. There were birds everywhere and they were always happy to sing."Teach her how to fight if you want to so much."

Jaime had startled at that and Elia laughed at him. "How do you--"

"We've shared a house long enough, Jay, I know you." She had turned to Aegon then, who was pushing his food around the plate. "Egg, you have to eat everything or you won't get lessons tomorrow."

"Don't want lessons!" Aegon protested, moving his vegetables around the rim of the plate sulkily.

"Then I won't teach you," Jaime intervened knowing the boy meant lessons with the Septon. They were teaching him everything that would be taught to the son of a Lord, in preparation for when he was ready to reclaim his identity, the same as for his sister. The boy grumbled but started putting his food in his mouth instead of playing with it and Jaime smiled, satisfied. "Same goes for you, Rina," he said without looking at her because Aegon didn't do anything nowadays unless he'd seen his sister doing it first. "This girl is a natural, it's a pity she's a woman, she would be a great Knight."

Elia gave him a puzzled look. "Not everyone wants to be a Knight, Jay. it's a pity she's so ugly, though, it would be better if she were a man. A Knight would be able to stay single if he wants and nobody complains a man is unmarriable because he's ugly. She will have to marry, being the heiress to Tarth, and I don't think many men would treat her right, as if being ugly is her fault."

Definitely not if they were like the cunt that made her cry.

"You didn't see her fight Eli, this one wants a Knighthood." He could tell by the way she had come alive with a sword in her hand, the way her body had moved almost instinctively, the precision of her swings. After the first few minutes of fighting Jaime had forgotten about her face, had only seen her potential. With the right training, she could be magnificent.

"The world doesn't care what a woman wants, you know this. It never has."

Elia was right, of course, but it still didn't sit well with Jaime. She just had so much potential. And now here she was, looking from the side of the clearing how Jaime corrected Rhaenys for the fifth time on the same upswing. There were two other girls circling each other with wooden swords, Nelia and Renata, both around the same age as Rhaenys, both daughters of merchants on their street who had heard he was teaching a girl to fight and wanted to learn as well. There were also a few boys, most of them a bit older, who had taken the chance of learning sword fighting even if they were not highborn enough to do it in the castle. They had baulked at the idea of learning alongside girls but Jaime had been very clear. "I'm paid to teach Rina and Egg," he had said sticking to his cover when one of the boys protested that girls didn't need to fight, they would get married and have children. "You want to learn from me, you learn with girls and you treat them like ladies. You don't, you're welcome to try your luck in the castle with the master at arms there."

They had all stayed and never grumbled again within his hearing. 

"My Lady," he said when he saw her look at him. She blushed immediately, casting her eyes down. "Have you come to join my lessons?"

" _You're teaching girls,_ " she said, still not lifting her eyes from the ground. 

"They wanted to learn," he said plainly. It was the best part of not being a Lord or Knight here, he wasn't constrained by their strict rules of what Lords and Ladies could and couldn't do.

"I've asked around about you," she mumbled, and it was painful how shy she was when not fighting.

Jaime wondered what she had heard. Probably the rumours that said he was sleeping with Elia, or the ones that said he was the real father of Rina and Egg. Or the ones about him murdering Elia's previous husband. There was a new one going around that he was a eunuch, thanks to the number of women, and men, whose advances he'd had to reject. His favourite was that he'd been an Unsullied purchased by Elia's late husband, regardless of the fact that he was too pale and blond to be from the summer islands, and that was the reason he was so devoted to her in spite of not having a cock. Elia had been in tears when she told him about that one, and even Jaime had laughed for a good ten minutes. "I'm going to develop a complex," he had said, patting the front of his breeches where it was obvious that he had something between his legs, quiescent as it had been for some time already, and it had sent Elia into a new gale of laughter which had roused Rhaenys from her bed.

"And might I enquire my Lady, what did you learn about me?" He asked, and then had to turn to Rhaenys again where she had lost her concentration. "Rina, no. You will be disarmed in two moves like this, excuse me Lady Brienne."

"I don't like this, Jay," Rina said, pouting. "I want to go home and play with Egg."

Jaime sighed. There was always one day when Rhaenys couldn't do something well, and because she hated looking less than perfect in front of her friends she'd ask to go home and play with her brother and then pester Jaime during the evening until she mastered it.

"No, but you can go home and read," he said because Aegon didn't need to be distracted. Rhaenys nodded, smiling toothily at him. She looked more and more like her mother, especially now her skin had bronzed beautifully after spending so much time outdoors. It was a blessing; if any of them had favoured the Targaryen looks it would have been much more difficult to keep their cover.

He turned to check the rest of his pupils and when he went to speak with lady Brienne, she had disappeared. 

She came back two days later, dressed in breeches and tunic, but still, she didn't join the class. Jaime let her watch, not wanting to scare her away, and kept his lessons. The next time she turned up to look, Elia was there sitting with her embroidery and watching the lesson, as she did occasionally, and Brienne looked between the two of them, her eyes lingering on Elia's features for so long that Jaime feared she had been recognized. She stayed for longer this time and even approached Elia to look at her stitching wistfully.

It was almost a fortnight before she approached Jaime again. "Where did you learn to fight?" She asked once all the pupils had left the clearing. She had been staying for longer stretches, her eyes always focused on Jaime and how he coached the children, but she had not joined them yet though Jaime could see her practically vibrating with want at some points.

"Here and there," he said, noncommittal. 

"They say you're a sellsword," she continued and Jaime had to bite down on a smile at her attempts to get information out of him. He didn't even need to lie. 

"So I've heard, I certainly look the part."

She pursed her lips, frustrated. "I want to learn more from you, you are very good, but Ser Goodwin says he doesn't trust sellswords and that neither should I."

"That is good advice, sellswords, in general, are not trustworthy, always looking for coin," Jaime said, amused. It wasn't sporting to play with her like this, she was young and clearly had never been to court, and wasn't used to games of wits. It was a good thing her father didn't seem to want her in court either, Cersei would eat her alive or traumatize her even worse than that Connington had. 

She surprised him then by narrowing those extraordinary eyes at him. "Then it's lucky you're not one, isn't it, _Ser_?" He startled and his first instinct was to grab his sword. He forced himself to release it after a second, but she had seen. "I was right," she breathed out loud as if it had been a puzzle she had been allowed to solve and not a death sentence.

Jaime took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, his hands clenching and unclenching. _She knew_ , was what was running through his head, and if she did they would not be safe. _Anywhere_. It was too early for them to reveal themselves, Varys had not been in contact except for the gold that occasionally made its way to them, the pieces weren't in place and if Robert learned of their whereabouts they were as good as dead. He could maybe make it to the North and hope Ned Stark hadn't changed his mind in the past couple of years, but that would more than likely put the North, and Rhaegar's last child, in danger. Maybe they could make it to Dorne, where the Martells would protect Elia, but that would force open war on the realm again. 

It was too soon. They weren't ready, they needed more time. He would have to kill Brienne to protect his family. 

Jaime grabbed his sword, steeling himself for what he needed to do, and then closed his eyes and released it. He couldn't, she wasn't Aerys, she wasn't a madman threatening half a million people, she was just a girl too curious and sharp for her own good. "Will you give me time to get my family and leave your island?" he asked, and he sounded defeated to his own ears.

She startled and looked at him with wide eyes. "Ser, you don't have to go. I don't know who you are or who your wife is and _I don't care_ ," she hastened to say, and Jaime wanted to throttle her. She should have lead with that, she didn't know how close she'd been to death. "I know you're not a sellsword and she's no merchant's widow. The way you both speak is clearly highborn, and the way you teach sword fighting is that of a master at arms, you must have been instructed in a castle. I don't know who her lord husband is that you had to flee so far from the mainland to be together, and I don't intend to tell anyone."

He wanted to laugh, his heart still tripping inside his chest. She had been asking about him, she had told him before, and more than likely she had heard the stories about him and Elia, collated them with what she had observed herself and composed her own romance in her own head making them the protagonists. She hadn't known she was onto a secret until she'd seen his reaction, had just been testing the waters. "Don't call me Ser, call me Jay like everyone else," he fixed her with a stern look. "A word of advice, if you suspect of someone of having a secret like that, don't tell them you know, especially in an empty clearing when they are carrying a sword. People with big secrets will go to great lengths to protect them."

She frowned at him. "I've seen you with your children, Se-Jay," she corrected herself, "and with your pupils. You are gentle. Nobody that gentle would hurt me."

She was too naive, she was going to get hurt badly with that faith in people. "Unless they're desperate to protect their family, Lady Brienne."

"I wasn't going to say anything," she finally said, looking down again, her fire spent now. "I just wanted to learn from you." 

"But I angered you, I know. It's a gift I have, you should ask Eli, some days she wants to kill me," he added, choosing to perpetuate her idea of them together. "I'm going home now, you can come back tomorrow in the afternoon if you still want to learn from me. And never call me Ser again."

He left her in the clearing, unconcerned of his rudeness. He suddenly needed to get home.

...

She came back the next day and Jaime was waiting for her. 

"I'm sure you've been learning with your Ser Goodwin for years and he's a good teacher," Jaime said after returning her greeting, as their conversation the previous day had not happened. He passed her one of the wooden swords he used with the children and she looked at it with distaste. "We're going to spar with this, so I can properly evaluate you."

"We've already sparred before," She said, but picked up her sword and took her stance.

"Yes, and that means I already have an idea of what strength I can use with you," he attacked immediately and Brienne fell into a defensive position, parrying his hit immediately, all hesitance and shyness gone. 

They exchanged a few hits, Jaime testing her strength and keeping her in the defensive, hitting at half his strength and seeing how she was getting annoyed at him for going easy on her. He wanted her angry, wanted her careless, and normally he would have started some disparaging commentary of his opponent to keep them off balance, but the only things he could say were pertaining to her gender or her appearance, and considering how he had met her, it would be cruel to taunt her in such a way. But he needed her off balance and angry, so he kept pressing with halfhearted hits that would feel patronizing after their previous fight.

She finally caught on, her brows gathering on a glower and she grimaced and attacked, wildly and uncontrolled. Jaime grinned and blocked her, still not using his full strength. She did it again, mouth twisted on a snarl and followed the opening Jaime had left her. He had her disarmed on the ground in two moves.

"You are quick to anger, Lady Brienne," he said, his wooden sword resting against her neck. "It can be turned against you."

"If you're not serious about teaching me--"

"I am teaching you, you have tells before you lunge, a skilled enemy will see you coming a mile out." He extended his hand and helped her up. " _Again_."

They started again, their swords clashing and again Jaime didn't let her take any opening until she was incensed by his patronizing attitude. He had her on the ground, disarmed in three moves this time. 

" _Again_."

They continued for an hour, and Brienne ended up disarmed several more times. Jaime could see on her face the mounting frustration, how she fell for his feints and how her eyes darkened, her mouth pinched on a thin line. 

"Fight me properly, damn you!" she snarled on the last lunge, and Jaime disarmed her and dropped her to the ground on the same move. 

"If I fought you properly, you'd be dead, Lady Brienne," he said, looking down on her. Brienne's face flushed red, her chest heaving, but she saw the justice of his words because she chose to keep her silence. "I'm older than you and have trained most of my life with different people, you can't win against me."

She sat up on the ground. "But this is not training, this is just you beating me to the ground."

Jaime sat next to her. "Is it? Before you lost your temper, it took me four moves to disarm you after I left you an opening. It started with just two. I've also learned your tells, and I can help you overcome them."

Her flush deepened. " _I grimace_ ," she said, and Jaime could imagine her long-suffering Ser Goodwin had tried, unsuccessfully, to train it out of her.

"Among other things," Jaime nodded. "You are good, I'm just better and better trained."

She nodded and looked down to the ground again. "I have to go back, my Septa must be looking for me."

Jaime let her go back to Evenfall Hall and went to his house for dinner, a satisfied smile on his face. 

She came back after that, not every day, because giving her Septa the slip wasn't so easy, and she still had her other lessons, even if they should have given up by now in trying to make her a lady. 

"My hands are too big for the needle," she protested one day one year in while they clashed swords. They had moved from the wooden ones to blunted tourney swords she had smuggled from the castle. "My stitches are ugly and uneven, nothing like Miss Eli's. But even if they were good, it's not as if my intended is going to like them less than he's going to like me," she said, resignedly, before she attacked Jaime and with a wild passion that belied her blase attitude at those words.

She said things like that occasionally, always when they were fighting since she was still painfully shy when they were not in the middle of a fight, and it never failed to make Jaime angry. He could trace those words back to her Septa, who appeared to be a cunt of the worst order, and to Connington. He had even stopped taking notice of her face except when he needed to read her expressions. What if she was ugly? She was truthful and loyal, had never mentioned anything about Jaime's Knighthood since the first time, had not even questioned him when they were alone. She always smiled at Rhaenys and Aegon when they came to see them fight, and was endearingly timid around Elia, darting looks at her as if apologizing for taking Jaime's time. 

"Well, you'll be strong enough to make him yield to you," Jaime said with a mischievous smile and she flushed beet red and stumbled at whatever image her mind had conjured, and Jaime had her on her knees the next moment. "Or not."

Brienne managed to disarm him for the first time a couple of moons after that. It had been some time since Jaime had had to employ his full strength against her, she had also learned to control most of her tells, though she still grimaced before she lunged occasionally. 

She did this time and Jaime almost rolled his eyes, he had told her a million times but it was the one thing she couldn't control. Except, this time, when he got in position to block her usual attack he saw an unholy gleam enter her expressive eyes, and right before she feinted he knew he'd been had. She had his sword out of his hands and the point of hers by his throat in ten seconds, and they both stopped breathing, eyes wide. Jaime's face broke into a huge grin then, feeling proud and happy in a way he couldn't remember for a long time. 

There was clapping in the clearing and they turned at the same time to see Elia with Rhaenys and Aegon staring at them. Rhaenys ran to Brienne, laughing. "You did it!"

Brienne looked stunned as if she couldn't believe what was happening. " _I did it_." Then she smiled, wide and happy, her eyes sparkling like the waters surrounding the island, and Jaime wished her horrible Septa and that Connington ass could see her like this, like this she might not be pretty but she was magnificent. 

"Don't get used to it," he said instead, picking up his sword. "Once is a fluke." It wasn't, and they both knew it, but it was expected of him to say. 

"Don't wound his precious pride, Lady Brienne, he'd be unbearable if you disarm him again," Elia teased as they took their stance. 

"I'll try, Miss Eli," she said, Brienne was able to call him just Jay but it seemed to draw the line at calling Elia without any kind of honorific. Since Lady wasn't allowed, she had taken to calling her Miss Eli, which Elia found hilariously endearing. 

"Imagine her face when she learns the proper address was Your Highness," Elia said one night while they shared a glass of wine, the children already sleep and the servants back in their own homes. They were as alone as they could be, and maybe a bit merrier than they should, to risk referencing their identities in the open. It had been Aegon's fifth name day, and the isolation and confinement to the island, and the fact that there had been no word from Varys yet, or anyone else, was weighing heavily on her. 

Jaime knew how she felt because he felt exactly the same, regardless of how idyllic their life was on the island, how happy they were there, something was missing. Jaime missed his brother and hated to think that Tyrion believed him dead, and how he must fare at the tender mercies of their father. He had heard Tywin retired to Casterly Rock after his death, and would have given anything to be able to send word to Tyrion. But he couldn't, not without risking everything. And he knew Elia felt the same and wanted to tell her brothers. 

They needed to wait for Varys's signal that he was ready to move. 

The signal came when they had been in Tarth for four years already and they were both itching with inactivity. At least Jaime had his sparring with Brienne, which had turned from him teaching her, to them just going at it fiercely for as long as they could until one had disarmed the other. It still was Jaime disarming her more, but she was catching up quickly. She had also grown a few inches and was now taller than Jaime, no small feat since he was already quite tall. Brienne had been horribly embarrassed by this for the first days, expecting Jaime to tease her about it. 

"You have to adjust to having a longer reach," was what Jaime finally said, having disarmed her every match for days. "And stop hunching. You're taller than me, I don't care, it hasn't emasculated me. I'm already a eunuch, remember?"

She had snorted and tripped over her own feet as if she still wasn't used to their full length, but that had been it. She had started using her body the way it was supposed to, her full height and reach playing a part on their fights. He knew she had it bad outside, had heard the gossip and some of the boys he still taught had made comments about her. Jaime had taught them why that wasn't how a man spoke about a woman, and much less a Lady. 

They had never referred to her in less than polite terms again in his presence, but Jaime knew he couldn't protect her from the world, much as he wanted to.

"Admit you like her, Jay," Elia said one night.

"I do, I consider her my friend."

"Not what I mean."

" _She's five and ten and we're not ourselves, Eli_ ," Jaime had replied because it was the truth. He liked Brienne as an sparring partner and friend, and there was something in her that made him want to protect her. Not with a sword, she was more than capable herself, but from the cruelty of men and women who couldn't see beyond other people's exterior. From the same people who mocked his brother behind his back and had called him the Imp of Casterly Rock. 

"She likes you, it's quite obvious."

He was well aware. "She likes Jay, she doesn't know me. And as far as she knows, we're married and I whisked you away from your husband, renouncing my title in the process. We're the most romantic couple in the world."

"She's going to end up married to a man who doesn't respect her and doesn't like her," Elia had said, sadly, and it looked like the day was drawing close.

They had just finished their sparring, both of them panting and sweaty. She had made him yield twice, her face still incandescent with joy at that fact, and it was getting late. "I have to go back."

"Day after tomorrow?" Jaime asked, she had managed to come every other day for a fortnight, but it never hurt to ask. How she had managed to come for two years without her father getting wind of it was something he had never understood. Tywin would have never allowed Cersei that kind of freedom. 

"I don't think I can come for at least a sennight," she said, her mouth turned down at the corners. "We have an important guest coming."

Jaime frowned. "And you have to entertain him? Could it be another betrothal?" He asked, somewhat uncomfortable with the thought, Elia's words playing on his head. 

She grimaced. "Gods I hope not, can you imagine how I would look next to Tyrion Lannister? We would look grotesque, he'd need a ladder to cloak me."

Jaime startled at the name, his heart suddenly tripping on his chest. _Tyrion_. In Tarth. It wasn't possible. "What's he doing here, I didn't think he left Casterly Rock?" he asked, hoping his voice sounded normal. He had missed by a mile if the frown on Brienne's face was any indication. 

"I don't know, my father said something about him looking for a rare book in our collection. A book about Duncan the Tall, I don't even know how he knows about it."

Jaime did. _Varys_. The Spider had sent his brother to Tarth. It was time. 

He should talk to Elia, but knew if he missed this chance he would not forgive himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Lady Brienne," he said, and she must have heard something in his voice because she turned her full attention to him. "I'm going to ask something of you, but you can't ask why." She nodded at him. "Bring him to my house. Alone. As soon as he arrives on the island. _Please_."

She looked at him with the same puzzled frown on her face, her eyes searching. "I will," she vowed, no asking any questions though she must be curious. "Will you explain then?"

"It's dangerous," but he trusted her now. Knew she would not betray him. "Not just for me and mine, but for you and your father." They would need to know, eventually. He hoped he was making the right decision. "If you still want to know, come with him to my house, and you will understand."

She nodded and they said their goodbye in silence, going back to their own houses. 

Jaime went straight to Elia once he got home. " _It's time_ ," he said, and she turned huge dark eyes on him a question in them. Jaime couldn't help the smile on his face. "My brother is coming."

...


	7. Brienne

Brienne could hardly contain herself the entire day until Tyrion Lannister arrived. 

She had been curious when her father had received the note the previous moon, had wondered whether her father was planning another betrothal for her, much as Jay had done when she'd mentioned. It was an unfounded concern; the Lannister family was well beyond their station, and even the Imp probably had better options than the Ugliest Maid in Westeros. He was the heir of Casterly Rock, after all, a much more attractive prospect than Tarth. Many families would marry their beautiful daughters to him just for their gold mines.

Then Jay had asked her to bring him to her house, and the expression on his face had been nothing like she had ever seen. There had been longing in his voice when he asked, _begged her_ , to bring Tyrion to him. It had something to do with who Jay really was, the mystery she had not quite solved a couple of years before. She had thought he could be a Lannister, he definitely had the looks and the gold, and there were plenty of those scattered around the Westerlands that Brienne had no hope of hearing about all of them. Here, in their little island apart from the Seven Kingdoms, they had only heard gossip about the Queen, the Kingslayer and the Imp. It was said the Queen was the most beautiful woman in Westeros and the Kingslayer, her twin, had been just as beautiful. The golden twins. It was also said they were both rotten inside; him a man without honour, an oathbreaker who had committed the worst crime. She was said to be frigid cold to everyone except her child, who she spoiled, and a drunk who cared little for the realm and her husband. They said she only had cared for her brother, and since his death, she had turned to stone. And then, there was the Imp, deformed and ugly, a dwarf despised by all, especially his father. 

Brienne didn't care for the twins but she felt bad for Tyrion. Nobody deserved to be despised by his family. She at least had her father in her corner, much as he had the worst taste in betrothed for her. Selwyn had never derided her for what she was, never had treated her badly for not being the daughter he deserved, for having survived her brother, never had forced her into the mould of the perfect Lady she would never be. She didn't know why Jay wanted to see him so badly, except she was convinced now Tyrion would know who he was, and he had told her she could go as well. 

She could learn who Jay was. 

It shouldn't matter to her, not really. Jay was Jay, the best swordsman she had ever met, and her best friend. The day she had met him had easily been one of the worst of her life, her face still flamed with humiliation two years later when she remembered Ronnet Connington's mocking face and how he had delighted in her tears. She had wanted to hit something, and then a man was asking her why she was hitting the tree, and when Brienne had turned around she had been speechless. Ronnet had been attractive in a plain kind of way, someone who could be pleasing to the eye when he smiled or under a certain light, more than what someone as ugly as Brienne deserved for sure. This man was not plain, and he was pleasing to the eye in every single light and probably in darkness as well. He had short golden hair and beard, high cheekbones and the brightest green eyes she had ever seen. He was somewhat taller than she was, but not by much, and the dark leathers he was wearing emphasized his body, strong and muscled arms and legs and a trim waist. This was what she had always pictured the Warrior looked like. 

Brienne could see him looking at her and cataloguing her face and body, and she wiped at her eyes trying to disguise the tears he had already seen. "Who are you?" she had asked him and he had answered with the same question for her as if there was someone on the island who didn't know who the ugliest maid was. She had expected him to mock her then, to remark on her appearance, but he had done nothing but express concern for her, and then challenge her to the most exhilarating fight of her life to date. She had known she would be back that day. And had not regretted it. 

Meeting Jay was one of the best things that had happened not her, and not only because she had improved so much with her swordsmanship she could beat him occasionally now. Jay was gentle and kind and had never taunted or insulted her, not even once. And he was loving, she had seen him with his wife and children, their beautiful family. They were not the demonstrative kind, had never seen them touch or kiss, but their love was plain to see in the way they deferred to each other, in how they smiled at each other. What did it matter who they were, or who they were hiding from? That kind of love was worth risking everything for, she was sure, it was the kind of love she had read about but knew wasn't destined for her. And what if she was a little in love with him? Jay was never going to throw a rose to her face and call her unworthy; he had a beautiful woman by his side and still, he was gentle with Brienne, he had never let other boys mock her.

Whatever it was he wanted with Tyrion Lannister, Brienne was certain it wasn't to hurt him. 

She was practically vibrating out of her skin by the time the Lannisters made it to Evenfall Hall. she was expecting a great entourage, as befitting to their station, instead, there was just Tyrion Lannister with two guards, all of them dressed in crimson doublets inlaid with gold lions embroidered on them, lest someone forgot for a moment which house they represented. 

Tyrion Lannister was every bit as ugly and malformed as she had been told he was, half as tall as she was and with a squashed face on his huge head, his hair was gold and short and his eyes were mismatched, one Lannister green and one dark. He waddled, his stunted legs giving him an unequal gait, but he walked with his spine as straight as his body allowed and his chin up. He looked up when he reached them, Brienne and her father waiting for their guests at their courtyard like custom demanded, the rest of their household present as well. 

He stopped farther than Brienne had thought, and he looked at them with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Lord Evenstar, Lady Brienne, I'm afraid that if I get any closer I'd need to lay down on the ground to look at your faces, you're both as tall as I am short. This visit can be very bad for my neck."

Brienne chuckled at that, taking an immediate liking to him, and she curtseyed. "Lord Tyrion."

"It's always a pleasure to get visitors from the mainland," her father was saying, guiding them inside. "Especially one interested in such scholarly pursuit as yourself, Lord Tyrion. Duncan the Tall is something as a revered figure around here."

"And probably related to you, considering your stature," Tyrion said, genially. 

"You are right, Lord Tyrion." They continued chatting all the way inside, Brienne just walking in silence by their side, and her father called two servants to show them to their rooms to freshen up after the travel before they took their lunch in the Main Hall. She noticed how Tyrion's intelligent eyes catalogued everything around them, probably not missing much. She needed to find a way to ask him to go with her to Jay's house that would not arouse suspicion. 

She kept thinking all the way through lunch, where she distractedly participated in the conversation more than she usually did in these occasions, her timidness usually rendering her speechless. But she didn't fear to speak in front of Tyrion Lannister, he wasn't going to make fun of her, he had not made any disparaging commentary about her that wasn't turned, sharp edge first, on himself. They were some kind of twisted reflection, both had suffered the same insults and derision, and where she had turned inward and timid, training her body into a weapon to wield, he had turned outward, turning his mind into the same and his tongue sharper than any sword. 

Her father cast speculative glances at them as the meal progressed; Tyrion was asking about the Island, and Brienne saw her opportunity. "I could show you around after lunch," she said, and immediately looked down at her plate at her father's sharp look. "Unless you're eager to start on the book."

"I'd love to see Tarth with you, Lady Brienne."

He had been as eager as Brienne to get rid of his guards. "This is Tarth, not the Iron Islands, nothing can happen to me here, not while I'm with Lady Brienne, who can probably beat you to the ground for what I've heard," Brienne blushed, but she didn't deny it. "I'm tired of your faces, it's the only thing I've seen since the Rock."

They were halfway to Jay's house when Tyrion spoke, "What do you know about the note?" he asked, and Brienne looked down with a frown. What note? "Oh, you know nothing. Why insist on showing me around then when you've barely said anything to me since we left and are obviously taking me somewhere specific."

Brienne flushed. "I promised my friend I'd bring you to his house."

"Does your friend know about it? Is he looking for some entertainment and wants a dwarf? Or has all this been orchestrated by Tywin to kill me as he did Jaime?" There was a note of bitterness and hatred in his voice that made her feel for him.

She stopped then, horrified. He believed his own father wanted to kill him, that he had killed his brother, what it must be to live like that? "No! He's not going to hurt you," she said. "He's a good person, and this is his family's house where he lives with his children."

Tyrion looked considering at her, and she was reminded that they were the same age, even if neither of them looked like it. "I think I believe you, surprisingly enough. What interest does your friend have in me?"

"I don't know," she said, they were already at the house and Brienne knocked on the door. 

Eli was the one to open, ushering them inside and closing the door hurriedly. Brienne saw Tyrion looking at her with a puzzled frown, recognition entering his eyes, widening them until they were huge on his face. "Jay, _he's here_ ," Eli said, and Tyrion jerked as if shocked, his head swivelling towards where the sound of feet could be heard. Jay was approaching them almost at a run, and Brienne saw how Tyrion's eyes filled with tears. 

"Jaime," he croaked, "Oh Gods, it's you. _Jaime_."

Brienne saw Jay kneeling on the floor, opening his arms for Tyrion to practically tumble into them, and the pieces fell into place one after the other. 

The most beautiful man in Westeros. The best swordsman in the realm. The Oathbreaker. The man without honour. "Kingslayer," she said, and Jaime's head jerked up to look at her, his eyes also shiny with tears. " _You're the Kingslayer._ "

She turned around and ran ignoring the calls of her name from within the house.

…

She ended up in their clearing, and she sat with her back against one of the trees and took several deep breaths, urging her heart to stop hammering. 

She couldn't stop the churning in her gut at Jay-- _Jaime's_ expression when she had called him Kingslayer. He had looked hurt, what right did he have to look hurt? He had been lying to her for years, pretending to be someone he wasn't, pretending to be her friend. She had heard the stories enough, about how Jaime Lannister had betrayed his sacred oath and killed his King, how King Robert had found him sitting on the throne, his cloak stained red with King Aerys's blood. He had not even been punished for it, not by the King. He'd died when his boat had been sunk, except he hadn't. 

He had somehow survived and ended up in Tarth, where he had formed a family. But no, that wasn't right, he hadn't formed a family in Tarth, they had all arrived together four years ago. She recalled Tyrion's face when Eli had opened the door; there had been some recognition there. Who was on the boat with the Kingslayer when it sank? The bodies of the Dornish princess and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon. She laughed mirthlessly, it was so obvious as if they hadn't even tried to hide: Eli, Rina and Egg. Of course, they had the best disguise in the world, they were dead. 

Noone would look for the legitimate heir of the throne if he was dead.

_Oh Seven_! She stood up, leaning still on the tree unsure of the strength of her legs. She needed to tell her father, this was too big a secret for her. She thought of Jaime's face the day before, telling her that it was dangerous, for her and for her father, to know his secret. He had given her a choice then, she could have led Tyrion to the house and left without knowing or stayed to learn his secret. She remembered his face when she confronted him the first time in this same clearing and told him she knew his secret. How naive she had been, she hadn't known anything. She had thought him and Eli some kind of star-crossed lovers who had fled together. Jaime had gone for his sword instinctively then, a killer willing to do anything to keep his secret, to save his life. 

No, that was unfair. Not his life, his family's. He had warned her of the lengths a desperate man would go to protect his family. And then he hadn't, he had just begged for the time to flee knowing that the moment she let the world know they were alive, they would be hunted down. 

How could her Jay be the Kingslayer?

She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, willing the tears to stop. 

"You know, when I was very young I travelled with my brother Oberyn to Casterly Rock, I could have ended married to Jaime or him to Cersei, except Tywin took offence that his precious daughter could be married to a Dornish man, she was destined for Rhaegar Targaryen. It's ironic then that I was the one who ended married to him, though I never wanted to, and she ended up Queen anyway," Elia said, sitting down where Brienne had been before and patting the space next to her. Brienne looked at her and could see now what she had been blind to see before, the same expression on her face she had seen on Jaime's. She looked scared. _Scared of Brienne_. She sat down. "Of course, being a woman it wasn't up to me, and luckily he wasn't his father. I'm not going to say we were in love, but I loved him. He was gentle and nice and would sing to me occasionally and play his harp. And he was so beautiful it hurt to look at him." she looked at Brienne then. "A little bit like Jaime. I'd say we were happy, or as happy as we could be with the shadow of his father always hanging over us. Until Aegon was born and it was deemed too dangerous for me to conceive again. Rhaegar changed then." Her voice got lower, sadder, her eyes far off in her own past. "You've suffered many humiliations at the hands of men, but I don't think you can imagine what it is for your own husband, the prince, to bypass you as if you were not there and crown another woman the Queen of Love and Beauty. _In front of the entire Kingdom_. I wanted to die of shame, I wanted to board the first boat to Dorne and disappear in the sands. I was sent to Dragonstone instead, and Jaime was made Kingsguard. He had also believed it was a great honour but turned out he was as much of a prisoner as I was. Once the rebellion started, I was taken to the Red Keep to force Dorne to comply while he was kept by the King to keep the Lannisters out of the fight."

Elia's eyes snapped to the present and she looked at Brienne with a half smile. 

"I can see your imagination running wild. This is not a love story, Brienne. Jaime and I are not lovers, we've never been and we'll never be. He was the only friend I had in that place, he was the only one who cared about me and my children, and I knew we were the only solace he had there from Aerys's madness, I could see it in his eyes when he came to play with Rhaenys on his scant free time. I knew the moment the Keep was breached they would kill me, and they would kill my children. Jaime got us out, at great personal risk, and then protected us. You don't know what those monsters did to my friend believing she was me, and to her children. What Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon allowed them to do. She was raped and her head was crushed, the only reason she was able to pass for me once she was dead, her elder daughter was stabbed so many times, and the baby smashed against a wall. And Robert Baratheon smiled when they were presented to him as a trophy," Brienne wanted to retch and cry at what Elia was telling her, couldn't believe anyone would do that. "Tell me, Lady Brienne, why would that man deserve the throne while we live in hiding?"

"It wasn't him who killed the King," Brienne said. It was an uncontested fact, and it was difficult to reconcile the man she knew, the one who had been her teacher and sparring partner and friend, with the arrogant Kingslayer. "It was the Kingslayer, ordered by his father."

" _Jaime_ ," Elia admonished her. " _His name is Jaime_. And Aerys wasn't a good King and he wasn't a good man, you can ask anyone."

She knew that as well, it was also an uncontested fact. "He broke a sacred oath, how can you trust a man who broke his vows?"

"Because I know him, I've lived with him for years, I've seen him play with my children and raise them as if they were his. Jaime Lannister didn't obey his father's orders that day because there was no such order, whatever his reasons were, it's wasn't that. He also didn't need to board that boat and come with us, and almost die when his father had the pirates attack us, and he definitely didn't need to hide here for the past four years."

"Why then? Why he did it?"

"You'll have to ask him, not me. I never asked him myself, and he never told me. I don't need him to, I know who he is. _Do you_?"

She thought about it, and yes, she did. She knew who he was. He was the man who had taught her how to fight, and who taught other girls from the town. The man who had never said anything about her face and always looked her straight in the eye. The man who played with Rhaenys and Aegon even if he was exhausted after a bout of training, and who teased Elia relentlessly like an irritating sibling. And yes, the man she was hopelessly infatuated with.

And she had just called him Kingslayer to his face and run away. 

"We need to get back."

Elia smiled at her and stood up. "Before we do, know that things are going to get more dangerous from now on. Tyrion being here means things have been put in motion. You can choose to forget you know us and stay away from this; we'd miss you, but we'd understand. You're our friend and we don't want to place you in danger, just knowing we're alive is dangerous enough. If you chose to stay with us and we get discovered before things are in place, we'll all hang for treason." Brienne nodded. She had suspected as much. This wasn't just a brotherly reunion, not when the real prize was Aegon and the throne. "Let's go home."

She needed to apologize to Jaime. 

…

Jaime and Tyrion were in the main room when they got back into the house, their eyes already dry. Tyrion was sitting next to him staring at his brother like he couldn't believe he was there, his hands between Jaime's like he needed the contact.

"She only ever loved the power not me," Jaime was saying to his brother, his voice sad and exhausted. "I couldn't stay there when she didn't care." Tyrion said something too low for them to hear, and Jaime shook his head. "No, we're only friends, she's like a sister to me," which elicited a rueful chuckle from both of them.

Brienne felt like they were intruding in a very private moment and wanted to disappear, but Elia pushed her inside the room. The brothers looked up at them and Brienne saw how Jaime's expression hardened, all the gentleness she knew leaving suddenly, his walls going up. There was a tenseness in his expression, jaw clenched and eyes cold and remote, that told her this was the Kingslayer as if she had conjured him here just by speaking his name.

"I'll go check if the kids are up from their nap," Elia said and then left them there. 

"Lady Brienne," Jaime said, and his voice didn't sound like the one she knew, it was harsh and cold, distant. She wanted to cry. "I expect you're here to ask me to leave your island, now that you know."

She bit her lip, her chin trembling with an effort to keep the tears in, and shook her head. "Why?" she finally asked, and Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. 

"Why leave? Why lie?"

"Why did you kill him?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

Jaime blinked and the mask broke, the persona he had adopted disappearing in a heartbeat. And it had been a mask, she could see it now, to cover up the hurt. "Would you believe that he was going to kill everyone in King's Landing with wildfire?" he looked from her to his brother, his expression searching. 

"Yes." It made more sense that the man she knew would have forsaken his honour to save a city, and Tyrion was also nodding. 

"Of course you did, you were always trying to save everyone," Tyrion added, looking at his brother as if he still wasn't convinced he was there. 

He sagged, all the tension leaving him, and he smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Jay--Jaime," she mumbled, dropping her eyes to the ground again, suddenly shy with him again. "What's going to happen now?"

Tyrion and Jaime shared a look. "We don't know," Tyrion said, finally. "I was given no explanations or instructions, just a note pointing me to Tarth."

Brienne nodded. " _The book_."

"It must have been Varys, he's the one who arranged for us to come here," Jaime said. "He'll probably have further instructions delivered once his birds tell him you're here."

"We have to go back to Evenfall, Lord Tyrion," Brienne said, though she didn't want to. But they had spent enough time away, and her father and Tyrion's guards would be getting anxious. They also needed to get back for supper, and Brienne definitely needed to freshen up first. She couldn't present herself with a blotchy face and tear tracks on her cheeks. Neither could Tyrion.

Tyrion and Jaime embraced for what felt like minutes, Brienne averting her eyes to give them privacy, and then Jaime was in front of her, and he grabbed her hands. "Thank you, Brienne. For everything," he kissed her hand and Brienne's face went up in flames, she was blushing so hard. 

It was the first time he had touched her when they were not sparring and he was giving her a hand up, or she was helping him, and it made her heart trip inside her chest. Elia had said they were friends, and Jaime had said she was like a sister, and now her stupid heart had decided that since Jaime wasn't married, it was going to trip all over itself for him. As if he wasn't so beautiful it hurt to look at him, to borrow Elia's words, and she wasn't a better match for his brother, both of them made of mismatched parts poorly assembled.

She mumbled at hasty goodbye and left before Elia could come back. Tyrion had promised his brother he'd be back the following afternoon, which meant Brienne would be as well, and she needed to convince her silly heart by then that he was still her friend and he was still off limits, even if he wasn't married to Elia. Jaime Lannister was well beyond the station of one Brienne of Tarth, in both physical charms and the power of his house. That way, heartbreak awaited.

Tyrion darted a couple of curious looks at her the way back to Evenfall, but said nothing, probably lost in his own mind. There was a new spring to his step and his eyes positively sparkled, Brienne couldn't comprehend how he felt but imagined that if she was given Galladon back after years of mourning, she would be skipping along as well. 

"The Evenstar awaits for you in his solar, he's asked that you both attend to him when you can," one of the castle guards told them as soon as they arrived, and they exchanged a look. It was politely worded but it was clearly an order. 

Selwyn was sitting on his solar with a few parchment scrolls and a carafe of wine, attending to his correspondence. He looked up when they entered the room, dismissing the servants and asking them to close the door. 

"Brienne, Lord Tyrion, I expect you had a pleasant afternoon," he said, pointing them to the empty chairs on the table. They sat down with another shared look. 

"You have a beautiful island, Lord Selwyn," Tyrion said, picking up the goblet of wine and taking a drink. "I expect I'll want to explore more of it."

_"How was the family reunion?_ "

...


	8. Interludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More interludes!!! Plot! Time Jumps! But, we finally have a chapter count, and hopefully, I'll be able to stick to it. Let me say, this is the longest and most intricate fic I've ever written... I can't wait to finish this so I can start the Mummy AU which will be just silly and fun.

**Interlude 4 - The Evenstar**

Selwyn looked at the shocked expression on his daughter and Tyrion's faces and sighed, deep and heartfelt. _Father give him strength_ , his child might well be one of the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms after two years under Lannister training, or close enough, but she had absolutely no guile.

"My darling Brienne," he began in his gentlest tone. "Do you really believe me such a careless Lord that I would fail to check on a sellsword living and teaching children in my Island? Am I such an absent father that I would fail to notice my own daughter sneaking around to meet such a man for two years?" She blushed fiercely shaking her head, her entire face turned a deep red in a second, her eyes as big as saucers. "Or did you think I really believed you had made a friend in town you never introduced to me, and I would not wonder about her? Did you think me such a bad father I would allow my only child to go out with a man she'd just met, unchaperoned, if I didn't already know where you were going?"

Both of them were staring at him agape, and he sighed again and took a fortifying drink of his goblet.

"Lord Tyrion, before my daughter so clumsily revealed the real purpose of your visit, I was meant to test whether your loyalties lie with your father or your brother, but I guess we have our answer."

"Yes, definitely not my father," Tyrion said roughly, and Selwyn didn't blame him. Tywin Lannister was a man who inspired fear in many and loyalty in few, including his own children.

"You are too young and naive to be playing this game, my darling," Selwyn said to Brienne, and it was the truth. There was a reason he had had no intention to present Brienne in court, and it wasn't only because she would have been in hell, surrounded by the most frivolous people in the Kingdom and relentlessly made fun of because of her appearance. Court was a nest of vipers and it required a level of deception his daughter was ill-suited for with her shy character and straightforwardness.

She looked like she was recovering her wits, though. "But father, how?"

"The first thing you need to learn if you're going to become a player is that being underestimated is always to your advantage," he said, rolling and sealing the scrolls on his table while he spoke. "Tarth is a little inconsequential island with no political or strategic import, and the Evenstar is a minor lord with no ambition or vision."

"That's not true," Brienne protested, appalled, but Tyrion was nodding along what Selwyn was saying.

"That's what my father thinks," Tyrion said, and Selwyn smirked at him.

"I know, I met your father in Aerys's court a long time ago, when he was Hand and I visited with my wife; those are his own words. _Charming man_." Tyrion choked on his drink but didn't appear surprised. "And who am I to say he wasn't right? Tarth is a beautiful place, but we don't have gold mines nor silver or anything but marble, we're not the realm's granaries or the Wardens of anything. We do well, but mainly with trade by sea, which King's Landing has more than us, and the thing we are most famous for is the beauty of our waters. To him, a man who only sees the value of other people in how to use them and what to gain for his family, we are nothing."

Selwyn had hated Tywin Lannister when he met him in court, not for the insult to himself but to his wife, and his opinion of him hadn't improved with the years. Tywin was a ruthless man who cared for nothing but power, not even his own family, and though Selwyn would have extended his protection to his _guests_ either way once he had been informed of the circumstances, the fact that it had been Tywin's hand behind the atrocities committed against Elia had fully convinced him.

"It was genius bringing them here," Tyrion said with a small smile. "My father has spies everywhere he considers important."

"But not Tarth."

"Not Tarth," Tyrion confirmed.

"Varys, on the other hand, has birds everywhere. He's the one who contacted me on behalf of Ned Stark, who I had met some years ago in Storm's End," He saw Tyrion and Brienne startle at the name, and they exchanged a shocked look, finally realizing the scope of what was happening. "He asked me to allow them to stay on the island lest they were killed, this time for real." If the letter had been written by someone else, anyone else, he'd not believe it. But he had met Ned Stark and knew he wouldn't lie, not about something like this. Most important, Ned was Robert's friend and he wouldn't conspire against his friend for power, but he would for honour and necessity. So Selwyn had accepted to shelter them and look to the other side while they lived their life in Tarth. "That was going to be the extent of my involvement unless they called on me for help." It was already dangerous enough to be sheltering them.

"But you are involved now, what happened?" Brienne asked, a frown on her face.

She was trying to process all the information, he knew, trying to shift her worldview to fit a father who was not quite what she had imagined. She had remarked earlier that year, when Selwyn had let go of his companion, how strange it was he hadn't taken another one. She misliked his companions but was used to having them around. That Selwyn hadn't taken a new one was worthy of notice, but the little birds had been chattering excitedly of movement, and he wasn't going to risk having someone around he didn't trust with his life.

"You happened, my darling," he said with a soft chuckle at her stunned expression. "Or, more to the point, Ronnet Connington happened to you, and I can never express how sorry I am for the part I played in that." She flushed and averted her eyes like she always did when that name was mentioned, and Selwyn vowed again that if he ever saw that man around he would pay him tenfold for the pain he had caused his daughter. If Jaime Lannister didn't beat him to it. "As soon as I heard what he'd done, I rushed to find you. It took me a while, and when I did you were already sparring with Ser Jaime," it had been a sight that had almost given him a heart attack, his daughter going toe to toe against Jaime Lannister. She had been training for some time and Ser Goodwin had confirmed she was good, but Lannister was presumably the best swordsman in the Kingdoms, and Selwyn feared she had recognized him and provoked the fight. He had cursed himself for a fool for allowing the Kingslayer on his island, even on the word of Ned Stark. He had seen Jaime about to deliver the final hit, his voice stuck on his throat, and had looked at his daughter's face knowing he was too far to reach her. But she didn't look scared, and the tears that had left tracks on her face were dried. She was smiling and the sword stopped short of her body. Selwyn had been frozen on the spot as they both took a deep breath and reset their positions to start a new bout. He had been lucky they were so focused on their fight neither of them noticed his presence. "I was about to enter the clearing and put myself between the two of you, thinking I had been a fool and you were fighting in earnest when I saw your face and you weren't distraught or scared, you looked happy. You kept smiling in a way you hadn't done since Galladon left us for the rest of the day, even after you came back home, and it was only when I asked about Connington that you smile faltered. After that, I didn't have the heart to keep you from training with him."

It had been hard for Selwyn to realize how unhappy Brienne had been until he saw her smiling again, even as she thought she was successfully sneaking around. She walked straighter, looked at people in the eye more frequently and didn't try to hide her face. She still trained with Ser Goodwin, and still attended her other lessons with her Septa, but there was a lightness in her Selwyn hadn't seen since before she had been made aware of her own image.

He had followed her one afternoon and had seen her fighting with Ser Jaime again, but that wasn't all he'd seen. He'd seen Elia Martell, and the shock of seeing the princess even when he already knew she could be there, gently teasing his daughter while her children cheered her on, had almost made him reveal his position. This was what Brienne had lacked, feminine companionship and friendship. Selwyn's own companions had never cared much for Brienne, something Selwyn had encouraged since he wasn't looking for a new wife and mother for Brienne. He hadn't realized how that affected his daughter, who found it hard to relate to other people, too used to their cruelty, but she had found acceptance with this odd family and he knew his daughter would fight to protect them.

He also knew his daughter was infatuated with Jaime Lannister, but there was nothing he could do about it, at least he knew that if he ever had to reject his daughter, he'd be gentle with her.

"I knew since the time I saw you together that even if I kept away from whatever was coming, you wouldn't."

"You know what Varys's plan is," Tyrion asked, obviously eager for more intrigue. He would be a good player, Selwyn thought, though he was still too young. But if he was half as cunning as his father, he would do very well in court regardless of his physical disadvantages. He still had much to learn, though.

"No, I don't know anything beyond what part I'm to play in it, the fewer people know the fewer opportunities for the information to fall in the wrong ears, even with the Master of Whispers on your side," he said, and he stood up signalling to them to do the same. "For now, we're going to supper and we'll have a lovely conversation about Tarth and Casterly Rock and books, and we will not speak of this again. Remember now that you are in this, the walls have ears, and there are birds everywhere willing to sing." This was mainly meant for Brienne, who still looked shellshocked. She would have time to learn, at least in Tarth there were fewer dangers than outside, and they weren't moving out just yet. "Lord Tyrion, I hope you can stay for a fortnight, as our guest, to properly study the book. Tomorrow afternoon, my daughter and I will show you some more of the island. I think it's time for me to introduce myself to my guests. Afterwards, I've heard there are some rare books in Dorne that you might be interested in."

...

**Interlude 5 - The Viper**

He waited by the harbour as the ship docked, and Oberyn wondered whether Doran had been waiting in this same place for the ship which never arrived bringing their sister back home. He knew he had insisted on being the one to receive the Lannister, wanted to be the first one to look at the Imp in the eye and decide whether the little man would leave Dorne alive.

If the rumours were correct he might be even doing a favour to Tywin, and that was probably the only thing that stayed his hand. He would definitely be doing the Queen a service, she had loathed her little brother since he was born, and Oberyn remembered their visit to Casterly Rock and that they had wanted to see the little monster. Elia had been there, alive and so beautiful, and she had frowned down at the little baby in the crib. " _It's just a boy_ ," she had said, disappointed not to see a monster and sad that he was treated as such.

Elia had been such a gentle soul; Oberyn had not wanted to join her to the Targaryen, not if the father's madness was passed on to his children. But in that, as with many other things, he had been overruled. He wasn't the head of their family and his brother had jumped at the chance of allying their family with the Crown, that it was also a big fuck you to Tywin after the insult to their family so many years ago had been a plus. Oberyn hadn't liked the idea of Elia alone in court, and he had been right. Rhaeghar's insult in Harrenhal had been bad enough, but leaving her as a hostage to his Mad father after sparking a war? He had wanted to kill him when he had heard, and the wanted to kill every single Lannister and Baratheon after she was dead. But that would spark a war, and his brother had been very clear that he was through with losing people to wars.

And now this little Lion presumed to come to Dorne. For some books. Something was going on.

Tyrion Lannister was still just a boy, a little bigger and much uglier than when he had been a baby, but he couldn't be older than five and ten. "Prince Oberyn," he said, once he had reached him. "Thank you for having me, it's an honour to meet you."

"Lord Tyrion," Oberyn said, inclining his head slightly. "The honour is ours, it's not ofter than a Lannister ventures this far south, and for so scholarly purposes." _See, Doran, he knew how to be civil to Lannisters_. "Can you ride, Lord Tyrion?" he asked once they reached the horses and Tyrion looked at them dubiously. There wasn't another way for them to reach Sunspear, and Oberyn had not requested a palanquin or a wheelhouse for their guest just to see his reaction.

"I can, though I have a special saddle," Tyrion said, looking back at his guards and gesturing for one to approach them. He smiled at Oberyn, his eyes sharp. "I've learned to never travel without it."

_Smart boy_ , Oberyn liked him in spite of himself.

They waited until the horse was saddled and one of the guards gave Tyrion a hand up to climb on the horse, and they were on their way. Oberyn approached Tyrion's horse and slowed the pace to a canter and Tyrion did the same, the guards riding ahead of them on his orders, as if he didn't trust they weren't going to be ambushed. There was no ambush; if Oberyn intended to have the boy killed he'd do it with his own hands.

"We were very surprised when we received the raven with your request," Oberyn said, and that was not quite what he had felt. He had felt furious that a Lannister had the nerve to ask for hospitality in Dorne. Ellaria had been the one to calm him, saying that the Imp probably had nothing to do with what happened to Elia, but it wasn't bad to have him in Dorne if they decided to rid the world of a Lannister.

Tyrion smiled at him as if he knew what he was thinking. "I was in Tarth when the Lord Evenstar suggested it, he said you had some texts from your time in the Citadel that were very hard to find."

That gave Oberyn pause, that was an odd recommendation considering he hadn't ever met Selwyn Tarth. "Did he now?"

"Have you ever been to Tarth? Is such a beautiful island," Tyrion said, ignoring Oberyn's question. He darted a look at their guards, but they were too far from them to hear if he called for help. "I was lucky to spend a fortnight there, and even made new friends, a merchant's widow and her sellsword, and their two children." He slowed down even more and stared at Oberyn, who was just frowning at him. "She told me she had met me once before, years ago while travelling with her brother through the Westerlands," Oberyn blinked, his heart starting to race inside his chest, it was ridiculous, he couldn't mean what Oberyn thought he meant. "She said it was still disappointing that the Imp was still _just a boy_."

He abruptly stopped his horse and Tyrion did the same, still staring at him with the same intent look in his eyes. There was no way for him to know that; he had been a babe in the crib, and the only other people who were there was the Queen and her dead brother, and considering what the Queen had done to him then, the cruel was she had pinched his little cock, and the hatred she had for the babe, it wasn't possible she had told him.

That only left one person in the world to know those words, one person who had died but whose body had never been returned to her family.

"I know what you're feeling right now, Prince Oberyn," Tyrion was saying, his voice low and calming. "Because it's what I felt a fortnight ago when I arrived in Tarth and met these friends."

"What are you saying, Lord Tyrion?" he asked, and his voice sounded wrong, rough and desperate, a terrible hope taking hold of him.

"Just that you might want to visit Tarth." The boy, the Imp, was smiling gently at him, and Oberyn wanted to shake him. "You might reconnect with people you never thought to see again. _I know I did._ "

His brother, the Kingslayer, had died in the ship that was bringing Elia's body to Dorne. That had been the only reason Doran hadn't retaliated against the Lannisters because not even he believed Tywin would have killed his heir to cover up his crimes. Oberyn had not been convinced, there was something fishy in the whole thing, and Tywin retiring from court immediately afterwards had been strange. It looked like Oberyn had been right to suspect, though not for the reasons he believed.

He closed his eyes, letting the knowledge of what could be waiting for him in Tarth change his world view, and when he opened them again he smiled at Tyrion. He would be leaving for Tarth in the morning, and if Elia was really there, alive with her children and Jaime Lannister, then much was about to change for the entire Kingdom. He would not tell anything to Doran until he had seen her, wouldn't want to put his brother through the agony of losing her again if all was a lie, but he didn't think so.

As for tonight, tonight he had something else to do. It was time for this boy to become a man.

"Tell me, Lord Tyrion, have you ever been with a woman? Or with a man?"

…

**Interlude 6 - The Queen of Thorns**

She sat in front of him in the silent room, a jar of the best Arbor Gold in the middle of the table, two goblets already filled and waiting for them. Olenna took her goblet first, sipping daintily, and gestured for Left and Right to leave them and close the door.

She misliked being inside, especially when the day outside was warm and bursting with life, but what day was not bursting with life in the damned Reach? Everything smelled like roses, even their shit, and she'd had plenty of it. She was bored in Highgarden where there were only lickspittles and nothing ever happened, and worse, she was tired of her house being irrelevant now. Her son had ignored her six years ago and spent a whole year eating food while seating outside a castle, and yet he had managed to do it for the losing side of the war. They were lucky Robert Baratheon hadn't stripped them of their title of Lord Paramount, though the alacrity with which his son a folded when Ned Stark had broken the siege was embarrassing.

But that was about to change if the Spider's presence in her house was any indication. The secrecy with which the meeting had been requested told Olenna everything she needed to know, there was treason afoot, and she had the feeling she knew what it was about. The Tyrells had been Targaryen loyalists until the bitter end, much as Olenna had despised Mad Aerys and his theatrics, and even here in the Reach, she had heard of the Targaryen children that had escaped.

"Out with it, Lord Varys, why did you request this meeting?" she asked when it looked like Varys was in no hurry to speak.

"Lady Olenna," Varys began, finally picking up the goblet from the table. "There have been rumours--"

"There's always rumours with you and your little birds, Lord Varys," she cut him off and his lips twitched up on a smile. "You haven't come to Highgarden for some rumours, nor have you come for our flowers. I said, out with it, you want something from us."

He nodded curtly in acknowledgement. "Your family fought with the Targaryens."

"Because my son is a fool who didn't listen, but he bent the knee quick enough." Not that it had done them any favours, not considering the real power behind the throne were the Lannisters, and Tywin had a long memory when it came to his enemies. "And now what, Robert Baratheon is drinking and whoring the Kingdom into bankruptcy in spite of having the Lannister gold at his fingertips while his beautiful wife has popped another blonde child and his father in law fights Jon Arryn for the governing of the realm." She smiled sharply at him, gratified at his reaction. "What, even here in the Reach we hear things, we don't need your little birds fluttering around."

"What else have you heard?" he asked, and Olenna misliked his smile. He was too amused for this conversation to be going her way.

"Aerys's children keep evading Robert's assassins, and he keeps sending more." It was unseemly, the man's obsession with those children. "I always thought someone must be helping them, and who better than the Master of Whispers for that."

Varys conceded then with another nod, and that was when Olenna knew something big was about to go down. That was too easy. Varys didn't give up any advantage unless it was a feint, because that's what Olenna would do.

"Who else is declaring for them? That's what this is about, you're bringing the Targaryen back and wants Highgarden to declare for them. Dorne at least, I think?"

She expected him to deflect and deny, instead, he drank from his goblet. "You can't expect me to give away my allies, can you Lady Olenna?" he asked, his tone unctuous and amused enough that she narrowed her eyes at him.

"And you can't expect me to say yes to treason?"

They stared at each other in silence, both of them drinking from their goblets, neither giving an inch. Finally, Varys nodded to himself and took out a scroll from one of his pouches, handing it to her still in silence. She took it, read the name written in it and felt her heart pumping faster, a shock of heat rushing through her body. She smiled.

This changed everything.

"I want a betrothal to Margaery," she said, handing the parchment back to Varys and watching how he applied a flame to it and let it drop to the table, both of them looking as it burned into ashes.

"Out of the question, I can't barter his hand or his sister's hand in marriage, only his family can do that." That was fair. "I can offer you a place in the council."

"I want my son as Hand," she countered knowing it was going to be rejected straight away.

Varys didn't disappoint. "Again, I can't give away that position, only his family can. We need Highgarden, but not as much as you think." Which meant he had support from many other mayor houses, and she wasn't surprised. Robert was a genial man and a bad King, though not as bad as Aerys had been, and luckily Jon Arryn was a good Hand. But the Queen had not earned her people's love, not when she looked at them as if she had something foul-smelling stuck to her skirt, and Tywin had sacked King's Landing, something people had not forgotten yet. "Do you want to be on the wrong side of the war this time as well, Lady Olenna?"

She considered her options; she could go to the Lannisters and betray Varys, maybe secure the betrothal of one of his to one of Robert's children, maybe even Joffrey. But he had given no proof, the note already reduced to ashes and could deny it. And if he had as much support as he suggested, then it was going to happen with or without Varys. He wasn't a man who took unnecessary risks, she was sure coming to Highgarden had been the last step on whatever plan he had and things were already in motion.

No, Olenna didn't want to be on the wrong side of the war again, and if it was left to his idiot son, her house would fall into obscurity and irrelevance, and she had worked too hard to let that happen.

She nodded her acceptance and signalled for him to refill their goblets, which he did promptly. She lifted hers in a toast and he did the same.

"When?"

"Soon," he replied, "some winds are blowing from the South, but the most important ones are coming from the West. You'll know."

Very cryptic, very Varys. She was already bored with him. "I guess I'll know." She called Left and Right and they took her back to her house.

For the first time since his son had bent the knee for Robert Baratheon five years ago something exciting was happening, change was in the air, and this time she would make sure they came on top, even if she had to beat his idiot son to make him listen.

And well, Varys had said he couldn't broker the betrothal, not that it couldn't be done. She would see his Margaery crowned Queen.

...


	9. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how much does my bisexual ass love Oberyn and Ellaria??? Let me count the ways...

Brienne was waiting for him in the usual place every day after Tyrion left the island as if she knew the sadness he felt without his brother there, sparring with her was the only thing that helped.

It wasn't just that he missed his brother, having him for a fortnight after years apart hadn't been enough, but at least he knew he'd have him back soon if everything worked out. The main reason for his bleak mood was that having Tyrion around had reminded him of Cersei, and now he missed her terribly again. He remembered the times they had spent together in Casterly Rock before he was sent to squire for Crakehall, and how they would curl together on their bed and whisper to each other about their lessons, how they would imagine a future together where they were the only thing in the world that existed. Jaime knew these memories were not true, not anymore, they were of the old Cersei, the one that existed before she believed she'd be Queen. And that Cersei didn't exist anymore. He still missed her, though, not his lover, not her body or the sex, he missed his sister, the innocent one he knew wouldn't come back. Not after they deposed her husband and took the throne from her and her children.

Clashing swords with Brienne was enough to get him out of his head, though, because you fought against her half-heartedly at your own risk. Brienne was ruthless with a sword in her hand, and she was as strong as he was, and unless he employed his full focus she'd have his ass on the ground in under five minutes. He had really taught her well, Jaime couldn't help his proud smile when he thought of it.

He had disarmed her once already, and it looked like now would be his time to yield when he became aware of another presence in the clearing. He couldn't spare the focus for them, though, Brienne was relentlessly pushing against his defence, trying to make him give ground so she could slip under it, and Jaime was shouting encouragement at her.

"Come on my lady, you haven't knocked me to the dust since yesterday, you're getting lax." Brienne snarled and pushed harder, and Jaime smiled wider. She hated to be called my lady, a reminder of what she believed she couldn't be. Jaime took any chance to use it, she was a Lady, in spite of what her Septa or other people said, and he loved the reaction he got. Tyrion had called it pulling her pigtails and had wondered aloud if that was how his brother courted a Lady, then it would fall on him to continue the Lannister line. Elia had laughed at him while Jaime had pretended not to hear them.

He didn't have the breath to keep making comments for the following minutes, the hits making his arm vibrate with the force Brienne was using, and she finally got under his guard and had him on the ground, panting, her sword against his neck. "Yield," she said, breathless, a wide smile on her face like every time she bested him.

"Of course, my lady," he replied just to be an ass, and the glare she sent him had him laughing like a loon. It was easier than to analyze why his breath got shorter and he felt a tightening in his gut looking up at her like this.

" _That was extraordinary,_ " a new voice said and they both snapped around at it to stare at the newcomer.

Selwyn Tarth was by the clearing with another man, and Jaime squinted at them, trying to drag the name from his memory.

He had not really been surprised when the day after his brother arrived Selwyn Tarth had come with them, some part of him had always known there was no way they had escaped his notice, and he'd wondered whether he was their ally. it had been Ned's suggestion to contact him from the beginning, after all.

"Ser Jaime," Selwin had said that day after the awkward introductions and Brienne's chagrined explanations were done.

"Jay, please Lord Selwyn, we don't want to confuse the children," he had corrected him.

"Jay, I want to thank you for the care you've taken of my daughter," Selwyn had said and Jaime had bristled at the idea that he deserved thanks for caring for her, as if there was another option once he'd known Brienne but to care for her.

"No thanks needed, my Lord, it has been my pleasure to train with her and call her my friend. She's a great person."

Selwyn had smiled sadly. "I hope her next betrothed looks at her as kindly as you do."

Jaime had felt his stomach clenching. "Next betrothed?" He shouldn't have been so shocked, she was flowered and the heiress of Tarth, the only reason she was still unmarried was men were frivolous cunts who couldn't see past her mismatched features. "Please find someone better than that Connington, who I hope I don't ever meet lest I beat him for being cruel to a Lady. Someone who can see what an extraordinary woman she is, and that they would be lucky to have her."

Selwyn's eyebrows had threatened to disappear under his hair, and he had stared at Jaime curiously. He had smiled then, a slow curling of his lips that also made his eyes, the same astonishing blue as Brienne's, sparkle.

"I think we might leave the talk of betrothals for afterwards, though," Selwyn had said, and Jaime had felt the knot on his stomach dissolve. "We don't want to bring someone in at this delicate time."

Jaime had smiled at him, relieved. "I think you're right, Lord Selwyn." He hadn't understood the looks Tyrion and Elia were giving him but had just ignored them and gone to where Brienne was with Rhaenys practising swings with their swords.

Jaime stood up and patted the dust from his clothes, "Prince Oberyn, I see you got my brother's message. Eli has been waiting for you," Jaime said, approaching them. It had taken Jaime just a moment to recognize him, he had the same dark eyes and hair as Elia, a long hooked nose and thin lips and an intensity about him that made him very compelling. Brienne approached them slower and went straight to her father, her eyes fixed on the ground, the previous confidence gone now she wasn't fighting.

Oberyn looked at her intently and she flushed, her face turning even blotchier after their exertion, then turned to Jaime with the same focus. "Jaime Lannister, _take me to my sister_ ," he said, his voice rough and a desperate look on his face.

Jaime could understand him and forgive the breach of etiquette, and so could Selwyn apparently. "Will we see you tonight, Prince Oberyn?" he asked, though the look on his face meant he knew the answer. "Brienne?"

"Tomorrow, Jay?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I'll be here." They left before Oberyn could drag him all the way to the house in his impatience. Elia was in the back with Rhaenys and Aegon, trying to focus on the lessons but clearly incapable of, her eyes darting to the door the moment it opened. She was out of her chair and practically flying into Oberyn's arms before Jaime had had the chance to close the door, and Jaime went to Rhaenys and Aegon and sat in her place, keeping them quiet so they could have their reunion. "What are you studying today?"

They came back out sometime later, still touching, both of them with red eyes and incredulous smiles on their faces. It had been like that for him when Tyrion came, so he wasn't going to judge them. He had taken any chance to touch his brother, make sure he was there, and Tyrion had done the same.

"You have no idea what it's been in the Rock these past years," Tyrion had said the night before his departure. "Father has always been harsh and cold, but your _death_ really turned him into a monster."

"He shouldn't have killed me, then," Jaime had spat, still furious at his father's actions and ambitions. It had been that desire for power which had corrupted Cersei, which had almost resulted in the death of Elia and their children, because at this point in time Jaime was more their father than Rhaegar had ever been, which had almost resulted in his own death.

"He's angry that he lost his heir and only has me now, the monster he despises, and because he can't punish some other house for it, he's taken it out on me."

Jaime had embraced his brother again. "I'm sorry."

Tyrion had shaken his head. "No, don't be. It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry, but we'll make it right," he could picture the look on his father's and sister's face when he came back from the dead to put Aegon on the throne. It would be the best revenge.

Oberyn went to the children first, and Elia introduced him as an old friend, her voice breaking on his name. It was better like that, they had done the same for Tyrion, not wanting to risk the children saying anything around town, and not trusting them with so delicate information. Rhaenys was getting older and could understand more, but Aegon was barely six summers and more interested in chasing birds around the clearing than conspiracies, even ones that would put him on the Throne.

"Elia says it was you who saved them," Oberyn said once the children had gone to bed. They were sitting with a glass of Dornish red he had insisted on opening after dinner. "I thought all Lannisters were the same power-hungry monsters."

"So did I," Jaime admitted, feeling the effects of the wine. He was unused to drinking, and this had quickly gone to his head. "I don't know why I did it, I shouldn't have, my father would be so disappointed in me." Politically, it had been the dumbest move, saving the Targaryen children who could take the throne from his sister's, but he hadn't been thinking about politics then.

Elia dropped her head on her brother's shoulder, her half-lidded eyes fixed on Jaime. "You did it for Rhaenys." She was right, and he nodded.

"And for you and Aegon."

"Regardless, you have Dorne's gratitude and our army at your disposal," Oberyn said and emptied his goblet. He refilled it again and topped up Jaime's and Elia's. "Now, tell me about that remarkable creature you were fighting against earlier. I've rarely seen a woman moving like that outside of Dorne."

Jaime felt the burn of some emotion in his gut, and lower, remembering how Brienne had looked towering over him, flushed and sweaty and imposing. He blinked quickly to dispel the image and frowned at his full glass of wine before shrugging and drinking from it. " _Lady Brienne,_ she's an incredible fighter," he said finally, and his voice sounded wistful and rough. "She might be better than me one day."

Oberyn looked at him appraisingly. " _I want to fight you_ ," the way he said it made Jaime flush, uncomfortably warm. " _And I'd love to fight her_."

"Oberyn!" Elia admonished with a laugh.

"I do want to fight them as well, you've seen how they look together." And Jaime was convinced there was something he wasn't getting, but it didn't matter because he had never seen Elia as free and happy as she was right now, with her brother. They were happy here in Tarth, but this wasn't them, not really, this was Eli and Jay, and they both knew something was missing. They were just biding their time, making the most of their situation while they were here.

Now she was incandescent with happiness, as Jaime had been before, and with a look at Oberyn, he knew they were going to do everything in their power to get their rightful place back, to keep her as happy as she deserved to be. As they all deserved.

…

Oberyn insisted on coming with him the next day for training.

"I want to see you both fighting again," he had said with sincerity. "What I saw yesterday was magnificent, I wish I had brought my weapon so I could join."

Jaime had heard much about the Red Viper, and was itching to pit himself against Oberyn, and also see how Brienne would fare. They had only had each other for the past two years, and though that was challenging enough, the chance to spar against someone like the Red Viper, to see Brienne facing him as well, was too tempting to pass.

"You can get a spear or a staff from the castle armoury," Jaime said, "you're supposed to be staying there as a guest of the Evenstar anyway." He had stayed the night with them, and only the promise of this fight had got him away from his sister, but he couldn't stay every night, it would be suspicious. Oberyn pursed his lips in displeasure, the same gesture he saw in Aegon when he was going to be stubborn and didn't want to eat his food. They were definitely related. "We're close to getting back, Oberyn, I know how hard it is to be apart, but we can't risk it now. Even Tarth is not so remote that a sudden influx of Princes of Dorne spending the night at a merchant's widow's household would remain unremarked."

"Fine," Oberyn spat when they approached the clearing where Brienne was already waiting for them. "But know one thing, I'll kill Tywin and Clegane myself once we've got the Throne back to its rightful heir."

Jaime stopped and grabbed Oberyn's arm, holding him back. "Have at Cleagane as much as you want, he's a monster and I care not what you do with him," he still had nightmares about Lydsa and her children, dreams in which it wasn't her but Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon who died, and Jaime stayed forever chained to his father and sister, forever the Kingslayer. "Tywin is still my father and he'll face justice, not murder."

They stared at each other for an eternity, until finally Oberyn relented and nodded and they continued to the clearing.

"Lady Brienne, this is Prince Oberyn Martell. Yesterday we were in too much of a hurry for courtesies, as you can imagine."

"I know," she said, darting a quick look at him before averting her eyes shyly. "It's an honour, Prince Oberyn."

"My Lady, I saw you fighting yesterday and couldn't keep away today," he looked her up an down with an appreciative smile and she blushed fiercely.

"Let's begin, Brienne," Jaime rescued her before she could combust, and she followed him to the middle of the clearing gratefully.

They fought as they usually did, letting everything disappear from around them, just focused on each other and their swords. Jaime won the first bout but she drove him to his knees twice after that, and every time he looked up at her Jaime could also feel Oberyn's eyes on them, assessing.

Oberyn left with Brienne when it was time for supper, "Remember she's a highborn lady and a maid," Jaime warned him because he didn't want him to embarrass her with jokes and double entendres like he'd done with Jaime the previous night. "Don't tease her."

"I won't steal your lady, Lord Lannister, don't fret," he said, amusement dripping from his tone before he left.

The next day they came back and Oberyn had a staff in his hand and a hungry look on his face. Fighting him was exhilarating, the way he moved, the graceful way his body flowed and the flawless control of the staff. Jaime barely held his own against such a style, his blood singing in his veins, and then, watching Brienne take her turn was a revelation. He had never seen her fight from the sidelines, and it was beautiful. She had perfect control over her limbs, never wasting a single movement, her eyes following not Oberyn's weapons but the movements of his body, trying to anticipate his strikes. Oberyn was quick as the viper he was named for, and Brienne was fast, but not as much, but she was much stronger, each of her hits driving him back. Jaime watched with bated breath how she pushed him farther and farther and saw the look of pure admiration and desire on Oberyn's face, felt the same coursing through his veins, and then the glint on the Viper's eyes when he had Brienne where he wanted her. Jaime wanted to shout a warning, but this was also a lesson for her, Oberyn had her disarmed and yielding in two short moves, his years of experience showing.

"Lady Brienne," Oberyn said when they were all resting after another fight between him and Jaime. "I want to officially extend Dorne's hospitality to you, whenever you want to come to visit us, you will be honoured as a friend. My beloved Ellaria will love you, and I can't wait to see you fighting her. She's a fierce woman and enjoys other fierce women like you." He looked at Jaime then. "And you as well, Lord Jaime. Dorne will always welcome you, even if you're a Lannister."

"Thank you, Prince Oberyn," she said, some of her shyness gone now she was exhausted.

The rest of Oberyn's time in Tarth was spent much in the same way, he would spend some nights at Evenfall and others with Elia, his reputation as a lover giving wings to new rumours of him sleeping with Eli, or Jay, or probably both. Personally, Jaime preferred the ones where he was a eunuch, but Elia hadn't laughed so much in the past few years. They would continue to spar with Brienne, and both her and Jaime picked up some of the fluid techniques of Oberyn and even started training with the staff.

After a moon, it was time for him to go back to Dorne, he had to prepare his brother and get ready to raise their banners when the time was right. And he insisted he missed Ellaria and that he missed sex. "I've been here for too long and haven't slept with anyone, even with temptation so close, my seed will curdle soon from frustration and I don't want Ellaria to forget me," he said on the last night. "But I will see you soon, Eli. You will come home soon."

They got back to their lives after that, but there was a tension in them that had been missing before, an expectation that something was going to happen soon. The children picked up on that, especially Rhaenys who was sharp as a tack.

"Are we going back to King's Landing?" she asked one day, a couple of moons after Oberyn's departure. They had increased their lessons, much to her an Aegon's displeasure, and Jaime had increased her training with a short sword because he wanted her to be able to defend herself if someone came for her.

They were preparing for war, and that was obvious in their little household. The servants had been selected by Varys, so they knew they were loyal to the Spider, though Jaime and Elia were always careful around them.

He had wanted to train Elia as well, but she had insisted that her body would not withstand training the way they did. "Childbirth almost killed me," she had said when Jaime had first brought it up, "and no amount of training would help me if the likes of the Mountain come for me."

A fine dagger and some vials arrived from one of the merchant ships from Dorne as a present for the Evenstar daughter to express gratitude for their hospitality, Jaime's request to Oberyn for his sister's protection.

They also commissioned armour and swords for all of them, as discreetly as they could over the following moons. It had to be done slowly, lest they got the attention of the wrong people, but the news that were coming indicated they still had time. Jaime's was sent from the Westerlands, the only place where a new Lannister armour being commissioned would be unremarkable, and he could see his brother's hand in the small sun and moons put in the doublet. He also ordered a new set to be made for Brienne in Tarth, because he knew she wouldn't allow being left behind when they finally marched. They had had a few arguments about that since Oberyn's departure.

"I am as good a fighter as you and the Prince," she had said, her eyes blazing with indignation at Jaime's suggestion that she stayed in Tarth when they marched. He had known it would be her response, and yet the idea of placing her in danger didn't sit well with him.

"This is not your fight, Brienne."

"Will my father be going with you?" she had asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes,"

"Then it's my fight, and I'm going." And that had been it.

Jaime had her measurements, more or less, and asked Lord Selwyn's permission to gift her with the new set of armour.

"Are you going to ask for her hand, Jay?" Selwyn asked when he did, and Jaime had blinked at him, surprised at the question. He opened his mouth but no sound came. "You keep giving her presents like this, it's almost a courtship."

"I just want her as protected as possible since it's my fault she's involved in this," Jaime protested, but he felt a flush on his face. While it was true that he didn't want any harm to come to her and would go to any lengths necessary to protect Brienne, there was a certain possessive satisfaction in the idea of Brienne clad in an armour Jaime had given her.

Selwyn stared at him sternly. "You can't do this, my daughter is already in love with you," he said plainly, almost gently and Jaime knew the truth of that, had known the truth of it for some time in the way Brienne looked at him, in the way she smiled at him and sought his company. But he couldn't ask, not yet, not while so many things were uncertain. "You will hurt her worse than Connington did if you don't mean anything with this."

"I do, I do mean something," he finally admitted, "but I can't, not until I have regained my place."

Selwyn looked at him searchingly. "Will Lord Lannister ask for her hand?"

" _Yes_."

"Get her armour in Tarth's colours, helmeted, and a sword to match."

He did and kept it in his house until the time was right for them to move.

It was a waiting game now, teaching the children, spending time with Elia and mostly training with Brienne. He was aware now of things he hadn't before, of feelings that had crept so slowly he had not realized he was falling. He had never fallen in love before in his life, he had only ever felt anything for Cersei and she had always been there, always had known what he was feeling almost before he did. This time it also felt like everyone had known before he did, with the exception of Brienne, and he had no frame of reference for this, nor any idea how to act or what to expect, so he just ignored it as much as he could. For now. If they came out of this alive, he would keep his word to Selwyn and ask her.

They were in the house during morning lessons, the training with the children of the town stopped in the past few moons, when Selwyn and Brienne came looking for them.

_It was time._

It had been six years since they came to Tarth, eighteen moons since Tyrion and Oberyn's visits, and finally, all pieces were in place. Six long years of being someone they weren't, and yet being as true to what he had wanted to be as any time before. Jaime was going to miss the simplicity of being Jay and playing house with Elia and teaching sword fighting to kids. He was going to miss not having responsibilities beyond caring for his little family and training Lady Brienne.

But he couldn't wait to don his Lannister armour once again and take back who he was and what was his.

"Balon Greyjoy is rebelling, he's attacked Lannisport and burned the Lannister fleet," Selwyn began, and that was not what Jaime had expected to hear, but suddenly saw what that meant, saw the path to a bloodless victory opening clear in front of his eyes. He smiled. "Robert has called his banners as is marching West. The Starks will meet him there, so will the Baratheon and the Tully and Arryn army. Ned has the Starks and Tully and will sway Arryn to our side if we promise Robert will get a full pardon and keep his title of Lord of the Stormlands. " Elia was about to speak but Jaime knew it was the only way to ensure they didn't start a new bloodbath. He nodded. "We have Dorne and Highgarden behind us, Varys has confirmed, and we are going to take the Throne now it's undefended. _We're sailing to King's Landing_."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to ASOIAF wiki (because I read the books fifteen years ago, my memory is not that good) Balon Greyjoy rebelled on the sixth year of Robert's reign, but he spent five years building the fleet, so it stands to reason that Varys, who has birds everywhere, got wind of it and decided to keep that information to himself, so he could orchestrate the best moment for the perfect coup.


	10. Ned

He went straight to the Godswood when the raven arrived.

Ned took a deep breath, enjoying the cool air of late spring in the North, the slight chill fading quickly, and thought what the raven he got meant. There was one, the easy one, from Robert. He was calling in his banners and wanted his Warden of the North to assist him in quashing a rebellion.

Ned didn't need to think about that one; of course, he was going to help Robert against the Greyjoys. Balon was a much different man than his father had been and wanted a return to the Old Way, raping and pillaging and murdering all over the coastline, like the pirates of old. Nobody wanted that. They had opened hostilities by attacking Lannisport, and Robert was already gathering his troops and his supporters to head West.

No, that message had an easy answer, which Ned had already sent.

It was the other one, the one hidden in the first scroll that gave him pause. _'It's time,_ ' was all it said, but Ned knew what it meant. He hadn't heard anything from Varys or Jaime in the past six years, and it was easy to forget this far up North that they were still alive, still plotting to depose Robert. And that it fell on Ned whether they succeeded or failed. If Ned decided to support Robert they were doomed, if he opposed Robert then it would be the end of his reign. He didn't want this kind of responsibility. Had never wanted it.

Robert was his friend, but his friend was still sending assassins after Viserys and Daenerys, and would probably kill Jon the moment he knew of his true parentage. And Jon was Ned's son in everything but blood.

"I knew I would find you here," Cat said, starting him out of his thoughts. Ned looked up at her and was taken again with how beautiful she was. Cat had grown into her title of Lady of Winterfell, her lush auburn hair a fierce contrast with the severe grey Stark attire she favoured, her blue eyes bright on her pale face. She was heavy with child, their third one, and Ned was hoping for another girl who was as stunning and fierce as her mother. He had hoped to learn to love her when they married, yet he had not expected their love to grow so strong and passionate that now, seven years into their marriage, Ned loved her, and their family, more every passing day. "What happened that you need your Gods so badly?"

Ned didn't say anything, just silently handed her the note.

"Oh," she said, her hands went to her swollen belly as if trying to protect the babe from the world, her expression troubled. "What are we going to do?"

" _I don't know_ ," he replied, still as unsure of what course of action was the right one as when he had first stepped into the Godswood.

Cat extended her hand to him. "Well, since the Gods don't have an answer for you, let's go inside for supper and hopefully your family will provide one."

He took her warm hand and followed her inside where Robb and Jon were already waiting at the table with Sansa. He was filled with love for his family and fear of making the wrong decision, but he allowed a simple smile on his face while he sat and the table and ate, observing them the entire time, especially Jon.

Cat had been clear when he had arrived with Jon, she would not treat him as if he were her son because that would be strange. That a woman as proud as she would let her husband's bastard into her house was humiliating enough, to also raise him as her child would be remarked by other people, and they couldn't afford that kind of attention. She would treat him as their ward, as a nephew or friend, neither warm nor cold, and let him be educated as a Lord with her own children as if she had been overruled by Ned. In public she mainly ignored him, in private though, when it was dinners like this one, she would smile at him and sometimes ruffle his hair, the most contact she allowed herself for him.

"I don't want to confuse the boy, if I hold him in private he will expect me to do it in public and be hurt when I don't," she had said, looking at the boy sadly once. "But nothing stops you from holding the boy, even if I'm seen to disapprove."

He observed his family that night, Robb and Jon so similar in age but different in character, Robb was clearly the leader of their little group, the one who started the games and tried to find mischief while Jon followed him around, always willing to stand by his brother but keeping an eye on Sansa, the protector of those smaller than them. Jon had been nothing but joy since the moment they brought him to Winterfell, always with Robb, always loving and generous. Ned really couldn't allow anything to happen to him.

Ned had almost made up his mind by the time supper was done and they retired for bed. "What are our options?" Cat asked once they were behind closed doors, the way she did when he was faced with a difficult choice.

"Do nothing," Ned said, though they both knew this wasn't really an option. "I'm taking the North to support Robert against Greyjoy. I can do that and then return home without getting involved in anything else. Let them fight it if they want."

"Doesn't sound like you."

"It's not." He took a moment to order his thoughts and Cat waited him out. "I can warn Robert of Varys and Jaime's plot. Many people will die, including children, but Robert will keep the throne." And Tywin the power, he didn't say, though that was also an important fact.

"What of Jon then?"

"I don't think Jaime has told anyone about him, and I doubt he would even then." He had nothing to support that, but something told him he was right in this. "Jon would remain my bastard forever, his true family dead for real, nobody left to take the throne from Robert."

"And is Robert a good King?" She asked, going straight to the most damning point. "Is he a King worth that?"

Ned shook his head. "According to Jon Arryn he cares little for governing, too busy drinking and hunting." His friend and mentor had sent several ravens to Ned during these past years wondering if they had done the right thing crowning Robert.

"And whoring I imagine," Cat said, and amused twinkle in her eye. "You won't offend me speaking the truth Ned, I know Robert enough."

Ned chuckled, surprised to hear that word from her, who was so proper all the time. "Yes, and whoring. He only seems to care when it's about the Targaryen children and his quest to see them dead, the rest he leaves for Jon and his council to deal with."

Cat sat next to him on the bed and took his hand. "I think you already know what to do."

Ned sighed. "Robert is my friend, and in spite of his flaws I love him and don't want any harm to befall him, though he's not likely to forgive me for this."

"Then make it conditional for your support of Aegon that Robert keeps his head, his family and his title as Lord Baratheon, Paramount of the Stormlands. Do you believe they would honour it if they promise?"

Ned nodded. "Yes." It wasn't just Varys, it was also Jaime and Selwyn Tarth, and Ned might not trust Dorne or the Spider, but he did trust Selwyn and Jaime.

"Then you know what to do. Write to Varys in the morning, I'll also give you a letter for my uncle Brynden, who I imagine will lead the Tully forces, so you have their support."

Ned leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "How did I marry such a smart woman?" He asked out loud, and she turned and smiled at him. Ned took the chance to capture her lips on a kiss, gentle at first and when she opened up to him, hungry and devouring. They tumbled to the bed together, careful of her full belly, and Ned took the chance to map her entire body with hands and lips, memorising every inch of her skin, every grove and plane, every sigh and moan, and especially the glorious swell of her belly which he knew would be gone by the time he returned to her.

When they finally fell asleep that night, Ned curled against her back with his hand pressed against her breast feeling the strong heartbeat, he hoped he had made the right decision.

…

Robert had changed in the past few years, and it hadn't been for the better. Ned could see the years of excess in his expanding waist and the network of red veins moving from his nose. He was still as jovial as ever, laughing louder than anyone and telling raucous jokes.

He also had a serving wench in his lap, completely uncaring that his good father was in the tent with them. Tywin Lannister had said nothing of this, but he had not said much of anything at all. He looked older than when Ned had last seen him, and much more severe, lines of exhaustion and anger on his face. It had been his fleet burning and an attack on Lannisport how Balon had chosen to spark his rebellion, a smart move to cripple one of their biggest threats, but not to poke the sleeping Lion. Tywin had never been the forgiving type and the last years had not mellowed his character.

They were celebrating Stannis victory in the Fair Isle, though it felt the only person in the mood for celebrating was Robert himself, Ned had too many things in his head and still hadn't had the chance to speak to Jon Arryn. It was difficult to find some privacy in the middle of a war camp where there were no walls and every conversation could be overheard. Ned had been lucky that Cat's letter said everything that needed to be said. Brynden Tully had read it carefully, first with a shocked look on his lined face and then a second time with a concerned frown.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Ned," he had said, burning the letter in front of his eyes, and Ned had breathed relieved.

"When are you coming to visit the capital, Ned?" Robert asked, waving his goblet enthusiastically around and sloshing the wine everywhere over the table. "I haven't seen you in years."

"Cat is expecting, and Sansa is still very young to travel so far," Ned said, the same as he had the previous times Robert had asked the same. Truth was, Ned disliked King's Landing and had learned from his brief time there that he was ill-suited for court and games of deception.

"Then come on your own," Robert said with a laugh, "it will be easier to show you around the good brothels that way, it might help you loosen up again!" Tywin looked at him disgustedly, stood from his table and left, and Ned couldn't blame him, not for this. "Lannisters, I'm up to my beard in the damned family! I need a friend like you around."

"You have Jon as your Hand," Ned said.

"Yes, yes, he's always working, working, working," Robert grumbled, and it was pretty obvious he was drunk already. His brother Stannis left the tent the moment Robert's hand disappeared from view under the serving wench's skirts, Ned exchanged an uncomfortable look with Jon Arryn.

"And I have to talk to Ned now about work again," he said, and Robert made a growly sound but completely ignored them otherwise, too focused on the girl.

This was the chance he had needed, and Ned followed Jon outside. They didn't go to his tent, which was surrounded by the Baratheon and Lannister ones, instead, started walking outside of camp, exchanging pleasantries about their wives.

"I had wanted to talk to you since you arrived," Jon said once they were relatively far from the camp, no risk of being overheard by anyone they wouldn't see.

"So have I," Ned began, "tell me plainly, did we make a mistake giving Robert the Crown?"

Jon nodded grimly. "We might have." He sighed as if the words were painful to say but he had to, "Robert didn't want the crown, not really. He's never wanted the responsibilities and he's not suited for it. "

Ned knew that, had known that the entire time. "He's not happy."

"I don't think he is, I don't think he likes his wife very much, though he wouldn't have liked anyone but Lyanna. And he despises his good father, the day Tywin came back from Casterly Rock, Robert got drunk and disappeared inside a brothel for two days." The feeling was mutual if Tywin's face was anything to go by.

This was the best opportunity Ned was going to have, so he just went for it. "Would he accept being just Lord Paramount of the Westerlands once again?"

Jon Arryn laughed as if Ned's question had been a jest. "Robert might, and be happier that one once he was over his wounded pride. Cersei and Tywin Lannister would definitely not."

"Let me worry about the Lannisters, would you help me convince Robert is in his best interest?"

Jon's face turned serious and he studied Ned carefully. "You're not talking in hypotheticals, are you? You're talking treason, here, with your best friend's Hand. _Are you insane?_ You're talking about deposing your best friend, in favour of whom?" Jon's voice was low and intent, shocked, but Ned could tell he was more scared than angry.

"The rightful heir, Aegon Targaryen." Ned looked around, the simple fact of having said that name out loud making everything real in a way planning with Cat and speaking with Brynden hadn't. He was rebelling against his friend, was talking about treason with his mentor, and once this was done, Ned would have lost the most important friendship of his life, if not both of them. Suddenly he felt like crying.

"He's dead," Jon said, but his voice didn't sound so convinced.

"No, he's not. And he's moving to reclaim his throne. If we convince Robert to step down we can avoid a new war. But if he doesn't, there will be war, and I can't guarantee Robert will win this time."

Jon narrowed his eyes at him, his voice so low was barely a whisper. "Ned, what have you done?"

" _The right thing_."

…

"Promise me he'll keep his life and title," Jon entered Ned's tent one night, a sennight after their conversation.

It had been the longest days of Ned's life, not knowing whether Jon was going to come to his aid or go to Robert and then Ned's head would roll. Him being here, him asking this, meant that Jon was on Ned's side.

"I promise," Ned vowed, and he meant it.

"No war."

"No war."

Jon nodded sharply and left the tent, and Ned breathed for the first time in a sennight.

…

The raven from King's Landing had arrived a few days ago, but Jon Arryn had decided to keep it from Robert until Balon Greyjoy was defeated. They had just taken Pyke, and Balon had reluctantly bent the knee. The mood was tired but jovial, celebration after a battle won, and Robert was getting ready for a feast. Stannis was preparing his fleet to get back to the Stormlands, and so was the Redwyne fleet. Tywin was marching back to King's Landing with the rest of Robert forces, and they wouldn't have another moment for this.

It was time. He asked Robert and Tywin back to his tent before they went to celebrate, this was a conversation better had in private. Jon Arryn and Brynden Tully followed them in.

"What is it now, Ned?" Robert grumbled, always eager to start a new feast. In the time they had been in this campaign, Ned had seen him drinking and engaged with whores and camp followers almost as much as he'd seen him fight. He didn't know whether his friend had always been this and he hadn't known or if the grief of losing Lyanna and the tedium of being King when he wasn't prepared or want it had made him this way.

"We've received a raven from King's Landing," Ned said, plainly. "The throne has been taken. Your wife and children haven't been harmed," he added, because it was important they knew, not that Robert and Tywin had shown the same kindness when they took the throne.

"What kind of jest is this, Ned?" Robert thundered, his brow furrowing on a scowl. Tywin had also turned to stare at him, though his look was more evaluating. "Who can take the throne? Not Viserys? Last I heard he kept begging in Essos and avoiding my men."

"Aegon Targaryen sits now on the Iron Throne, the armies of Dorne and Highgarden backed him. King's Landing has been taken without bloodshed, the Red Keep was opened from the inside."

"Aegon Targaryen is dead, I saw his body," Robert bellowed, "and so did you."

Ned swallowed, looking at his friend sadly. "No, he's not. He's very much alive, the same as his sister Rhaenys and his mother." He turned to look at Tywin while he said the rest. "Jamie got them out of the Red Keep before your men could kill them."

Tywin's face paled at his words, and he took a step forward before he kept himself in check, his eyes boring into Ned.

Robert had no such restraint, he advanced on Ned menacingly. "And how do you know all of this?"

Ned looked him in the eye and finally let his own anger and disappointment out. "Did you really think I would condone the murder of children in cold blood? That I would approve of raping a defenceless woman to death and smashing her babe against a wall? That stabbing a three-year-old girl over fifty times was an appropriate show of strength? How could you think I would be alright with those things?"

"That's why you betray me? For Targaryen whores and bastards?" Robert's face was flushed with indignation and fury, spittle flying from his mouth as he shouted. "They took Lyanna! They killed your sister!"

"Lyanna went with Rhaegar willingly," Ned said and Robert looked like he had been hit in the gut, his face draining of colour. "She saw you siring bastards all over the Vale and the Stormlands and knew you would never keep to just one bed. She was willful and strong, and fell in love with a man who made her feel special, not just a trophy to keep at home while he kept siring bastards."

Robert was shaking his head and Tywin was looking at them with that same calculating expression. "You rebelled for her."

"No, _you rebelled for Lyanna_. I lost my father and brother to Aerys's madness, that's why I rebelled. My sister, I lost in childbirth." He saw when finally everyone in the tent realized what his words really meant, all eyes focused on him.

"You didn't betray Cat?" Brynden was the one to ask the question.

"Of course not. Lyanna begged me to protect her child before she died, and when I returned you could only speak of how you'd end the Targaryen line," Robert was staring at him with a wounded expression, and Ned felt terrible for hurting his friend like this, but it was the only way to make him see. "I thought it was the grief talking, that you'd come to your senses."

"Lyanna had a child? And you never told me?" Robert accused him.

"Lyanna had a child with Rhaegar, and you ordered the murder of every Targaryen children as your first command as King," Ned reminded him, unable to keep the fury from his voice. "Was I supposed to hand you my nephew so you could have him smashed against a wall as well?" A heavy silence fell on the tent and Robert had paled considerably. "You didn't want the crown, Robert, you've said many times. I can't give you Lyanna, but I can guarantee you keep your life, family and titles if you step down now."

"And what did you promise Doran Martell if they took the throne for you?" Tywin said, finally recovered for the earlier revelation of his son's actions.

"You have it wrong, Lord Tywin," Ned said, and finally allowed some satisfaction in his tone. Robert, he hated to hurt, but he had no such love for Tywin Lannister. "Doran Martell hasn't taken the throne for me, _Jaime has taken it for them_."

He saw that one landing, how Tywin tensed at the name and the implications, his eyes widening and his face draining of colour. "My son is alive?" he asked, voice choked. This was the least dignified anyone had ever seen Tywin Lannister.

"Yes, we got him out of the ship before you could kill him, he led the attack on the Red Keep. Don't worry, he made sure no harm would come to his sister and nephews."

"So this is it," Robert said bitterly, finally recovering his voice. "You were my brother, and you've betrayed me and conspired with that oathbreaker to steal the throne. I should have killed the Kingslayer when I had the chance, I should have known a man like that would attempt it again."

"You never bothered to find out why he did it, just took the throne he vacated for you. You never wanted it, are you really going to go to war for it?"

Robert straightened his shoulders and looked at Ned with a coldness in his eye he had never seen before. "Against Dorne and Highgarden? I just crushed the Iron Islands, I can crush them too. I can hang you for treason."

Ned shook his head. "Not Dorne and Highgarden, Winterfell and Riverrun and the Vale. Can you crush us all? Will you destroy so many lives for a throne you never ever wanted? Please, Robert, you need to see reason." He took a deep breath and prepared to set his friendship aflame, pleading with his friend. "Lyanna didn't love you, she chose to go with Rhaegar, I'm sorry, I had wanted you for my brother, but it wasn't meant to be. You need to forget her, you have a beautiful wife and children, and you have the chance to go back and be the Lord of the Stormlands you were always meant to be. _Forget about Lyanna_."

Robert took a step forward and punched him in the face, Ned sprawled on the ground of the tent, not really surprised, his jaw throbbing in pain. He was lucky it wasn't broken. "You're no brother of mine, Ned Stark. You're dead to me," he spat, his face a mask of hatred. He turned to Jon Arryn then. "Were you also in on this?"

Jon shook his head. "No, I only heard of it a few days past."

Robert nodded. "I will go to King's Landing and bend the knee and give the crown to that boy, may he choke on it. Pray he never needs to call on my people to defend his throne, we won't come."

He left the tent and Ned sighed, taking the hand Brynden Tully had extended to help him up. "He'll get over it."

"No, he won't." He turned to Tywin, who was staring at them blankly, recovered already from his surprise. "Your son is a better person than you are and stayed Dorne's hand on their quest for revenge. But they want Clegane."

"They can have him," Tywin said, unconcerned.

Ned looked at him suspiciously. "You're not going to plot your way back on the throne, Lord Tywin?"

Finally, his lips curved slightly up, a shadow of a smile. "What do I care for the throne when my heir is alive? Kings come and go, and they're not always the ones with the power."

Ned stared at him and then turned and left the tent, suddenly glad that Jaime got away from his family. He might have lost his best friend, but they had averted a new war and restored some kind of order.

Now they needed to march for King's Landing, and Ned had to write to Cat so they brought Jon to the capital to meet his true siblings. There was still much to be done, and his aching jaw would remind him of what he'd lost for days to come.

The right thing was a painful thing to do.

...


	11. Brienne

They reached King's Landing sooner than Brienne had expected.

The winds had been good and the sailing smooth and she didn't know why her stomach was in knots; she was ready, they were ready. She had been training for years, knew was one of the best fighters, but it was vastly different to clash swords with Jaime and Oberyn, knowing all of them would walk out of it, maybe with a bruise or two, than to wade into a war. That was what they were doing, they were starting a war, and they were never bloodless. She remembered the lesson Ser Goodwin had tried to impart, how much she had hated the blood coating her hands, and it hadn't even been human blood.

They were going to try, though. Nobody wanted bloodshed.

The number of ships converging on King's Landing harbour was just a show of force, a deterrent. They were not going to attack an undefended city, they were not monsters.

"Highgarden forces will approach the city from the north in a sennight, and Dorne has split his army between ships and cavalry, but they are just going to stand there and look pretty. We won't sack King's Landing," Jaime had been adamant, much to Oberyn's amusement.

"We're not Lannisters," the prince had taunted, his blood obviously up with battle so close.

Jaime didn't dignify that with a response. "I will take a small group inside the Red Keep using the same passages we used to escape, once inside, we'll convince them to surrender and open the gates so Aegon can claim his throne."

"Who are you taking?" Brienne had asked, suddenly afraid that she'd have come all the way to just stay in the ship and look pretty as if that was even possible.

Jaime had given her a fondly exasperated look, "You and Oberyn, and two of his men."

"I'll select the best fighters," Oberyn had vowed and then Jaime had turned to her, his eyes still with that same fond look in them that made her stomach clench with want.

"I have something for you, Brienne," he had said, and lead her to his cabin. "I knew you would not stay out of the fight, so I had this commissioned for you, with your father's blessings."

In a corner of the cabin were two armour stands, one of them was a deep crimson with the lion of Lannister in gold, the craftsmanship was exquisite, the armour a prince would wear to battle. That wasn't the one that had given her pause, though, next to it was another in blue with pink accents, similar in style to the one her father had but with the colours inverted, and it was as well made and as big as the other one. She had turned startled eyes on Jaime, who was taking a sword from a stand, he handed it to her and she marvelled at it. The pommel was simple enough to fit comfortably in her hand, but a closer look revealed engravings on both sides, suns and moons with sapphires inlaid on one side and rampaging lions with rubies on the other. Her heart had started pounding in her chest. She had looked at the armours again and noticed the subtle details she had missed before, there were tiny suns and moons on the Lannister armour, and there were rampaging lions on Tarth's armour.

She had felt her mouth drying, she had to be mistaken about the implications. He had marked her with his house symbol, marked himself with her house colours and sigils out of friendship and respect, she was sure. The fact that there were no three-headed dragons or Martell suns didn't mean anything, couldn't mean what she wanted it to; Jay the sellsword could have considered her a prospect for her position and wealth, Jaime Lannister didn't need any of those, and she had nothing else to offer, not to him.

"This is a beautiful sword," she had said roughly when she was able to form words again, handing it back to him reverently.

Jaime refused to take it. " _It's yours_ ," he had said, a soft smile on his face. "Same as the armour. I can't keep you from battle, but I can arm you and armour you so you come victorious out of it."

"It's too much," she had said, but something inside of her had wanted them as she had never wanted anything before.

"It's not, not if it keeps you alive."

She had felt the prickle of tears in her eyes and had barely been able to thank him in a choked voice before running to her own cabin, lest she embarrassed herself by crying in front of him.

Now she was wearing a cloak over the armour, which had been a perfect fit, and the sword by her hip was a mirror of the one by his. Oberyn and Elia had looked at them and shared a look and a smile before it was time for disembarking. Oberyn was also wearing armour, his with Martell's sun in the middle of his chest plate, the same sun that adorned Elia's dress, proclaiming her identity to the world. Rhaenys and Aegon were both wearing Targaryen colours, though they were to stay out of sight until the gates of the Red Keep were opened. Her father, also wearing armour, was to stay with Elia and the children in the ship.

They rushed through the streets as quick as they could, following Jaime until they were deep in Flea Bottom, the sick and emaciated faces of its inhabitants looking at them with the lack of curiosity of people who had hit rock bottom. Nobody commented on the cloaked people turning towards the street of silk, and once Jaime had them in the right passage, nobody cared about the people that disappeared into thin air. They kept walking for a few minutes until they were in front of a Wall and Jaime turned to them.

"We aim to disarm and subdue, not to kill," he said, sternly, looking at each of them in turn but lingering especially on Oberyn. "Especially not my sister and her children."

He opened part of the wall and suddenly they were inside the Red Keep; the place wasn't as busy as it should have been thanks to Robert leaving and taking half of his Kingsguard with him. There were servants bustling around, but they were easy to subdue. The first guard they encountered was too startled to raise the alert, and he was also easy enough to subdue, but their luck ran out when they approached the throne room.

That was where the Queen was with her children presiding over the court, and a dozen of eyes turned to them when the door opened. There were two Kingsguard on either side of the throne and another by the door, and Oberyn's men immediately engaged that one while they advanced on the throne. The courtiers parted easily enough, cowering at the sight of five armoured and armed people entering the room, the two Kingsguard stepped in front of the Queen and Brienne unsheathed her sword at the same time as Jaime took out his.

They had never before engaged in the kind of fight they were now, side by side against their enemy, and Brienne instinctively knew where Jaime was and when he was going to move the same way he seemed to know it for her. She saw when the Kingsguard took advantage of an opening given by a brave courtier who had attacked Jaime with a dagger, and she covered his flank at the same time she kicked her own opponent in the midriff, sending him flying. Oberyn was there, his spear at the man's neck. "Yield." The Kingsguard shook his head, and Oberyn kicked his sword away and put his feet on the Kingsguard's chest, then he turned his spear until it was at the Queen's neck. " _Yield_." The remaining Kingsguards did as ordered and dropped their swords.

Jaime froze for an instant, then he was striding towards the throne. "Oberyn, no!" he shouted, removing his helmet as he advanced, his eyes wild. Brienne got there first, and she shot him a look and removed the spear herself, making sure it hadn't scratched the Queen.

"I wasn't going to hurt her," Oberyn said with a shrug, removing his own helmet. "You didn't want bloodshed, this was the fastest way."

Jaime glared at him but didn't say anything else. It didn't matter to the Queen though, she had frozen the moment Jaime had shouted, her eyes fixed on him as his features were revealed. "Jaime," she breathed, shocked, and her eyes filled with tears. " _How_?"

"Hello, Cersei," he said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the throne. She let herself be moved, probably due to the shock of seeing her brother alive, and Jaime took her place. Brienne approached them until she was next to the Queen.

" _In the name of Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, I, Jaime Lannister, reclaim the Iron Throne_ ," Jaime said, his voice carrying everywhere in the room, and Brienne grabbed the Queen and held her back when she launched herself at her brother.

…

It had been Brienne the one tasked with taking the Queen to her rooms and standing guard there while Jaime opened the gates of the Keep and dispatched messengers to the ships. Cersei had walked in silence in front of Brienne, her older child walking next to her and holding her hand, the younger one in her arms. Brienne noticed the gentle curve of her stomach which indicated she was with child again, that was the only soft thing about her. After the initial surprise which had allowed Jaime to remove her from the throne without resistance, and then her impulsive response to his declaration, Cersei Lannister had just frozen. She appeared to be encased in ice, her eyes remote and as cold as the Wall. She was as beautiful as the rumours said she was, a perfect mirror to Jaime, except where he was soft and warm she was hard and cold, they both had the same delicate features and the greenest eyes, but hers shone like gemstones while his reminded Brienne of the forests in Tarth, always vibrant and full of life.

"Who are you?" She asked Brienne the moment they were in her room. She left the children on her bed and went to the table where a carafe of wine and some goblets were already waiting for her. "Those are Tarth colours if I'm not mistaken, but Tarth is sworn to the Stormlands, have you betrayed your liege lord and King?"

Brienne didn't say anything, Jaime had warned her that Cersei had a sharp mind and sharper tongue, and it was better if she revealed as little as possible.

"Don't give her any ammunition," had been Jaime's exact words before Brienne had taken Cersei away. "Don't talk to her, don't remove your helmet and especially don't listen to anything she says. I'll be there as soon as I can." If he hadn't been wary after Oberyn's trick in the throne room, Jaime wouldn't have wanted Brienne near his sister, or so she thought.

"So that's where my sweet brother has been hiding this entire time, such a boring and irrelevant island, no wonder we never found him," she said grabbing the wine and sitting on the recliner and leaning back, the low cut of her dress throwing the curve of her breasts in sharp relief, her neck delicately exposed, showing her lovely features. She looked at Brienne through half-lidded eyes, and they had warmed considerably. "And since he's here with the Targaryen children, not as dead as we were told, I have to imagine the mother is also alive?"

Brienne kept her silence as suggested, and Cersei frowned in annoyance before she wiped the expression from her face.

"She must have a prodigious cunt to convince my brother and the Evenstar, that's who you are isn't it, of treason. I had heard you were as honourable as good old Ned Stark, but even he sired a bastard so there is no honour when there is a good cunt to be had," she said crudely, and Brienne forced herself not to react. "You move well for a man of your age, but that won't help once the true king is back. You know that, don't you? Once Robert is back, you'll be tried for treason and hanged. Didn't you have a daughter? I heard she's so ugly none of the brothels will want her, so once you're dead, what will become of her?" She drank from her goblet, her eyes never leaving Brienne, clearly looking for weak points to exploit.

Brienne remained unmoving and silent, wondering how it was possible that this woman and Jaime were twins when they were so different. Oh, they had the same features and they were both as beautiful as the Warrior and the Maid, and yet there was something repellent in her, something calculating and fake. Her beauty was skin deep, Jaime's, on the other hand, went all the way down to his core. And it wasn't something she said because she was in love with him, it was something that everyone around him recognized. He had earned her father's respect, not an easy accomplishment, and Elia and the children adored him, so did his brother.

Cersei was looking at her now curiously, her posture straightened, her eyes narrowed. She had stopped her subtle seduction and was clearly recalculating her strategy. "That's not touching you, you're not the Evenstar. But those are Tarth's colours. He doesn't have a son, only his ugly daughter." Brienne twitched involuntarily, but that was enough for Cersei. Her lips curled on a smile that didn't reach her eyes. " _You are the ugly daughter_ , but you know how to fight, and the way you two fought together. My brother taught you." She stood from the recliner to refill her goblet and then studied Brienne with a gleeful expression, her yes lingering on the armour with a covetous look. "Oh, I see, he's marked you. Has he promised to marry you and then covered you in Lions? Is that how he got your father's cooperation, by selling himself to the ugliest maid in Westeros?" Brienne bit her lip, suddenly glad she had her helmet on. She didn't want to show her face to Cersei, knew she wouldn't be able to stand the mocking and derision, not after so long sheltered from it, as if the past few years had stripped her defences. It didn't matter that she was wrong, that she was misjudging Jaime and their relationship and trying to harm her out of spite, it was as if she had looked inside of Brienne and found her deepest desire and twisted it. She would marry Jaime in a heartbeat, but never in exchange for their help, and that she suggested it was enough to twist her stomach. "You think he'll keep those vows? So did Aerys, and look what that got him. I know my brother, he's a Lannister and will always put his family first."

"You're right," Jaime appeared from the back of the room, and both Brienne and Cersei turned to look at him. "My family comes first, always." Cersei smiled at him, triumphant, and Brienne felt her gut turning. No, he didn't mean that. He wouldn't have come all the way to King's Landing just to betray them, not when he had been the one to save Elia. It made no sense, it would have been enough for him to do nothing if that was what he felt. "You're just wrong about who my family is, sweet sister; it's not the one that tried to kill me."

He was by the table then and grabbed another goblet and filled it with wine, taking a leisurely sip. There was something wrong with him, though, a tightness in his expression and tenseness in his posture that Brienne misliked. He was wary of Cersei, an unarmed woman, considered her enough of a threat that he had his hand around the pommel of his sword, and that made Brienne wary of the situation, made her long for her own sword in her hand. This wasn't an enemy she could hit, though, she knew this much after just a few minutes with her. This was a battle of wits and words, and she was outmatched.

"Could you stand outside?" Jaime asked her, mirroring her thoughts. "I want to talk to my sister."

Brienne shook her head, not trusting the Queen, and he looked shocked for a moment. Jaime smiled at her then, his eyes soft, and Cersei looked between the two of them, her expression twisting into something ugly. "Always so stubborn, _please_ _Brienne_."

Reluctantly she turned to head to the door, Brienne was powerless to resist his pleading. She was too slow, though.

"You don't want your future wife to know about us, dear brother? Have you fucked her already? How does she compare against me?" Cersei's venomous voice stopped her before she could open the door, and Brienne felt like she had been doused in ice. She turned to look at Jaime and saw his devastated look, Cersei smiling cruelly at him, and knew the truth of those words in her bones. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and was grateful again for the helmet.

Jaime stared at Brienne with that terrible expression for a moment, closed his eyes and when he opened them he was the perfect mirror of his sister, eyes flinty and cold, a serpent coiled to strike. " _Leave us_ ," he said, and even his voice was cold and brittle now, an order instead of a plea.

Brienne nodded and left, certain that whatever they were going to say to each other, she wanted no part of it.

…

Jaime found her a few hours later in the rooms one of the servants had assigned to her.

She had gone back to the throne room and there Elia was standing next to Aegon, who had taken the throne, both looking regal in their house colours. Her father was standing in full armour behind them, with Rhaenys and Oberyn on the other side of the throne, a man who could only be Varys next to them. Around them the courtiers had been buzzing excitedly, the fact that no blood had been spilled working in their favour. She had taken a position by his side, ignoring the curious looks both Selwyn and Elia sent her and refused to take her helmet off.

This was a waiting game now; until they got news from the Westerlands they could do nothing but hold the Red Keep, they had the Kingsguard and the Queen as hostages in their rooms, with guards posted in all of the entrance. The ones visible and the ones only Jaime seemed to know about, and the courtiers had also been moved to guest rooms in the keep.

She could not think about any of that, though, her mind stuck on Cersei's words. She had called Brienne Jaime's future wife, and he hadn't denied it. For an instant, Brienne had felt hope that he could see her like that. Then she had pulled the rug from under Brienne's feet, and she could think about nothing except the way Cersei had looked on that recliner, and how if that was who Jaime loved no one had ever had a chance, much less Brienne who was the complete opposite of Cersei. There were so many things that were wrong with that relationship, but Brienne couldn't help but remember that conversation she had half heard between Jaime and Tyrion, how he had sounded when he said she had loved power not him. Brienne had not understood, not until now, but the desolation in his voice had stayed with her.

The knock on her door was soft, almost tentative, and she was expecting Elia or her father, coming to check on her after all their concerned looks, but it was Jaime. He looked worn down and sad, resigned in a way she had never seen him before.

"Lady Brienne, may I speak with you?" he asked, unfailingly polite like he only was when he needed some distance.

Brienne nodded, not looking him in the eye, and stepped aside, letting him into her room. It was not proper for a maid to have a man in her room, but she cared nothing for propriety today, they needed privacy and that was difficult to have in a place like this.

"Lord Varys has sent a raven to Ned Stark, but we won't know anything from them for a few days. We'll stay here, in the keep, until we have word from them though I'll understand if you prefer to go back to Tarth and wash your hands of this and me."

She looked at him then and shook her head quickly, averting her eyes again.

"Won't you talk to me?" he asked, and he sounded so sad it made her ache, but she had no words to give him. "Can't you look at me anymore?" She wanted to, but was unable to. Not right now. " _I understand_."

Jaime went to the door, and Brienne wanted to stop him but didn't know what to say. He didn't leave, though, stopped in front of the door. "We were born together, my hand clinging to her foot, and all our lives I thought that meant we were destined to be together," Jaime said, his voice so low Brienne could barely hear him. "When we were children the only way to tell us apart were our clothes, and I think that's when she started telling me we were the same person, mirrors of each other, two halves of a soul, destined to be together in death the same way we had been born. I liked the way that sounded, always with her, that way I would never be alone." Brienne could not imagine what that would be, she had been alone since Galladon died, would have given anything to have someone like that. Maybe not quite so close. "I'm not ashamed of having loved my sister, even if nobody understands, even if you are disgusted by me now. We don't get to choose who we love, people were not horrified by Aerys marrying his sister, and I never understood why Targaryen could do what was forbidden to me, not when I loved and cherished my sister while Aerys brutalized his." He took a breath and pressed his face against the wood. Brienne could barely breathe, afraid to miss any of his words. "But you have to understand, Brienne, that's in the past. She chose a crown over her other half, chose a King over the one she said she loved, and that is no real love. It took me years to understand the girl I loved doesn't exist anymore, and the love I had for her is gone as well. She's still my sister, and I will still protect her and her children, the same as I won't let Oberyn kill my father. I made my choices as well when I took Elia out if the Keep and when I betrayed my sister and father for them. Those choices led me to Tarth, to you, and I wouldn't change them for the world. Regardless of what you think of me now, know that meeting you was the best thing that happened to me."

He opened the door and Brienne knew that if she let him leave they would never speak of this again, he would always believe she was disgusted by what she had learned, and whatever closeness they had enjoyed until now would disappear. "She said you had marked me," she finally said, her voice strident and panicky, and snapped her mouth shut at the same time her face flushed darkly.

Jaime closed the door gently. "Does that bother you?" he asked, tentatively, but his voice sounded stronger as if her words had given him hope. "I wasn't exactly subtle with the armour and the sword."

" _I wanted them_ ," she admitted. She had wanted them so badly, had wanted nothing more than for Jaime to mean something with them, for the knowing looks everyone had sent them to be correct, for Jaime to want her.

And he did, and it had been his sister who had soured the revelation with her spite and jealousy, but Jaime was right, they didn't choose who they loved.

"And now? Do you still want them now?"

She looked up, forcing herself to ignore how hard her heart was pounding and how her palms were sweating. This was more nerve-wracking than any fight. "I do."

He turned around and sagged against the door when he found her looking at him. "Brienne--"

"She called me your future wife," Brienne could hear the longing in her voice, and Jaime smiled at her and pushed away from the door.

"Yes, and if we don't lose our heads with this coup, I will make good on that if it's something you want."

Brienne nodded and suddenly Jaime was there, next to her, his arms reaching for her face, his eyes intent. She almost recoiled with surprise but managed to stop herself, and when he held her cheeks so gently, so tenderly, she felt her heart trying to escape her chest. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, practically depositing the words on her lips, and she breathed her consent before he closed the distance, softly, chastely. It was little more than a brush of lips, but she felt it down to the soles of her feet and felt weak in the knees because of it. He pressed his forehead against her and enveloped her in a tight hug, as if afraid that she would disappear if he let her go.

She closed her eyes and sunk into his embrace; they would need to talk more later, but for now, they were both exhausted and deserved this. If only for a moment, they had each other and the rest of the world didn't matter.

...


	12. Jaime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just one more to the end, I had to increase the count because this chapter was getting too long so I had to split it. Also, I wanted to swap the POV

It was over a sennight since their arrival at King's Landing they got the raven from Ned, and by that time nerves were already frazzled around the keep. 

It all felt too easy, taking the Throne without any blood spilt, Brienne having accepted his past and promising herself to Jaime, the peace surrounding the keep where King's Landing appeared to be holding their breath in case war still broke out. There was a catch somewhere, things had never worked out quite so smoothly, not in the real world.

Highgarden forces had arrived the day before, and Jaime had also sent a raven to Casterly Rock, so his brother would be making his way east to King's Landing. He hoped Tyrion arrived before Tywin did, he didn't want his brother to miss the show when his father returned. 

Olenna Tyrell appeared to be the only person having fun, she had insisted on travelling with her son and once Mace Tyrell had set his forces around the city, she had requested entrance to the Red Keep. Lord Varys was the one to receive her and bring her to the small council room, where they were all discussing strategies in case of war, which was looking more and more likely the longer they didn't hear from Ned.

She entered the room, her eyes zeroing immediately on Jaime and Oberyn, who were standing by the map shoulder to shoulder arguing for an advance towards the Golden Tooth if they didn't receive word from Ned in the next couple of days, while Brienne and Selwyn were advocating for making themselves strong in King's Landing, since their forces were already there and requesting more help from the North, if necessary. Elia and Rhaenys were sitting with Aegon by the council table, involved in their lessons because being King didn't excuse him from learning, much to Aegon's displeasure 

"We have the Throne now but if we leave it undefended, we open ourselves for the kind of trick we've used on them," Selwyn was saying reasonably.

Jaime had been about to say something when Olenna spoke. "Lord Varys, you're never boring," she said, her voice full of glee. "I know you said you had allies, I didn't think you'd bring back from the dead Tywin's son, I'd love to see the look on his face when he learns of it." She turned to Brienne and Selwyn then, her eyes roving over her tall form greedily. "Well, aren't you wonderful? You must be Selwyn's daughter." She took in the armour and then looked at Jaime again. " _And the future Lady Lannister_ , well done girl, well done." Brienne flushed beet red and Jaime felt an impulse to preen. That was _his_ future wife, and she was wonderful. "Selwyn, you old fox, I thought you were done with intrigue when you retired to Tarth, and here I find you in the middle of it."

"Lady Olenna," Selwyn said with a smile, taking her hand and bending almost double to kiss it. "It's been a long time."

"That it has, and you haven't been idle," she turned to the table and served herself a glass of wine. She made a face after a drink. " _Dornish red,_ I'll get some Arbor gold sent in for the people with taste." Jaime wanted to laugh at Oberyn's offended face. "Now, what's this I hear of waiting for word on other allies?"

Jaime nodded to Varys, there was no point keeping things secret anymore. It was already done. "Ned Stark has the Tully and Winterfell armies on our side, and he's trying to get Robert to abdicate peacefully."

Olenna looked impressed. "How did you get Ned Stark, the King's oldest friend, on your side?"

"That, Lady Olenna, will be something for Ned to reveal if he wants, let's just say without him I wouldn't be here," Jaime said, because he had not told Elia about Rhaegar's other child and now wasn't the time to reveal his existence to the world, not without knowing whether Ned had done so himself and if he was still alive and on their side.

That was what worried Jaime the most, the lack of news from the Westerlands. He knew they were in the middle of a campaign against Greyjoy, and that the timing was never good to tell a King you were deposing him, especially if you intended to keep everyone's head on their shoulders. With so many people with their blood up after a battle, there was no telling what would happen. 

He also knew Cersei's compliance was fake, had known since the moment he had spoken to her that his sister was just biding her time. Cersei Lannister would not countenance the loss of everything she had loved; her throne and crown to Elia and her children, her brother to one she considered so below herself. He should have never allowed his sister and Brienne alone in the same room, he had known at the time it was a bad idea, but he hadn't trusted Oberyn or any of his men with his sister, especially not after Oberyn had pressed his spear against her neck. Jaime only trusted Brienne, and though he knew Cersei was no rival against her physically, Brienne was too innocent for the mind games his sister excelled at. 

He had underestimated Cersei, though, had not believed she would just reveal their relationship like that, not when she had more to lose than he did if word got out to her husband she hadn't been a maid when they married.

He had whirled on Cersei the moment Brienne was out of the room, had been shocked at the anger he felt and how he had to clench his fists to keep himself from hitting her. Cersei had no such problem, though, and she had slapped him with all her might. Jaime had allowed it, feeling the sting of her palm against his face, and when she'd pulled back to do it again, he'd grabbed her wrist and held her away from his face. "I'll allow you this one, sweet sister, but no more."

"Traitor," she had snapped, pulling her hand away from him and going back to her table to refill her goblet of wine. " _I mourned you_."

Jaime had narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you? Did you wait until it was confirmed or did you start the moment I boarded the ship father and your husband had ordered to be destroyed? Did you care enough to try to stop it?" She'd had the grace to flush, just two enticing spots of colour high on her cheekbones, nothing like the blotchy red that Brienne's face usually turned and that Jaime found fascinating. His sister was so different from Brienne, he had never compared the two of them but now couldn't help himself. Cersei was objectively as beautiful as she was cold, and Jaime had realized that her eyes were the same colour as his, but they were opaque and flat and showed no warmth. The perfection of her features and her body didn't arouse him anymore, not more than a statue of the Maid would. Brienne's eyes were the most beautiful, and contrasted with her mismatched features but the truth was Jaime preferred them, could read every single thought Brienne had on them, and her powerful body, while not feminine or curvaceous, was perfect in its own way and had Jaime aching for relief sometimes after sparring sessions. 

In his eyes now, Brienne was the beautiful one while his sister had become twisted and ugly.

"You were not supposed to be on that ship! You were supposed to stay here with me!" She had shouted at him, and that was when her children had started to cry. Jaime had turned to the bed where a boy around four years old, Joffrey if he wasn't mistaken, was staring at them with his crying sibling in his arms. Jaime had approached them, the habit of picking up Aegon when he was smaller and cried ingrained, but Cersei had grabbed his arm and held him back. "Don't you dare," she had hissed, her eyes blazing like wildfire. "Don't you touch my children, not after you just stole the throne from them to give it to that whore's son." Jaime had recoiled at the venom in her voice and face, and she had taken the chance to try and hit him again, the wine clearly taking effect. He had been about to protest, to defend Elia, but Cersei had not been done. "She took Rhaegar from me, then she took you and now she takes the throne."

"And we both know the one you care about, don't we, Cersei?" he had said, any shred of sympathy he had felt for his sister gone entirely. It was still the same as before, he didn't know what he had expected. 

She had approached her children to soothe them, not looking at Jaime while she spoke softly until they calmed down, and when she turned again she had wiped the anger from her expression and was staring at Jaime longingly. "Of course it's you, Jaime, I have always loved you more than anything, I did cry for you. I could barely leave my bed for days." Except for her wedding, which had not been postponed, Jaime hadn't said. She had approached him, clearly changing tactics, and Jaime had wondered at how he could see it so clearly now for the manipulation it was when he had been completely blind to it before. He'd let her, nothing but detached curiosity where before he'd had felt overwhelming desire and love. "You have no idea how hard it was for me, seeing you on that ship. I demanded that Robert stopped it, but he refused, it had been his idea and didn't want to risk Dorne's fury. He didn't trust you, didn't want you around and would have had you executed for Aerys's death had I not begged him not to," she had continued as if Jaime's memories of those days were gone and he couldn't tell her lies from the truth. "Then, after I had been married to him," she had stopped, her voice thready and strained, her eyes darting to her children. " _He's a beast, Jaime, I hate him so much_. He's drunk most of the time, and cares nothing for me or his children." She had gone up to him, her eyes wet and her lips trembling, and had looked at Jaime pleadingly. "He hurts me. If you had seen the bruises he leaves on me if I dare resist, and how many whores he's humiliated me with," she had lowered her voice so it didn't carry to where the children where. "You should have killed him as you wanted then, I should have let you. You still can, I'll be Queen Regent, and you can become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for your nephew. We can be together again like we should always be. We were born together, and you being here means we can be together until the end like we are destined to."

She had pressed herself to him them, her lips brushing his and Jaime had smelled her hair for the first time in years and had felt a flash of nostalgia for simpler times, for the sister he had loved. This time, though, he didn't feel desire for her, only the anger still thrumming in his veins. He had pushed her away.

"I've been dead for six years, Cersei, and you didn't die with me or follow me to the grave. You were here, living with your King and your Crown," he had said, marvelling that she still tried the same things she had before. "If you hate Robert so much, I'll take you away. I can get you an annulment and you can go back to Casterly Rock to raise your very blond children." He had wondered the moment he had seen them which relative had she got to replace him between her thighs, those children were all Lannister, not a drop of Baratheon blood in their veins, he would bet his sword hand on it.

She had finally realized no tricks were going to work and she snarled at him, throwing her goblet of wine to his face. "You will not take the Throne from me. Robert will come back with the might of the Stormlands and the North and the Vale, and crush you and your Dornish whore."

"I'm sorry sweet sister, who do you think got me and Elia out of that ship? Ned Stark is no more fond of the slaughtering of children than I am." He had seen the realization entering her eyes, and it had only angered her more, but Jaime didn't want to bandy words with her anymore. He was tired and dripping in wine, and was worried about Brienne and what she might think of him now. "You've already lost, think whether you want to go back to the Stormlands with Robert, who will retain his title, or an annulment to go back home. That's all you're getting from me."

He had headed for the door then, "Don't think this is ending here, sweet brother," she had said, her voice low and threatening. "A Lannister always pays his debts."

Jaime had left her there after making sure all the doors were guarded and she would be comfortable and well attended to, and had gone to look for Brienne to explain. 

Now he wondered what payment would be exacted from him for this, but for the moment they just needed to wait some more. Robert Baratheon was coming to bend the knee, according to Ned Stark's raven, and King's Landing was about to welcome three more armies.

…

It was decided that Robert would bend the knee to Aegon during court the day after they arrived, and Aegon would be officially crowned the day after that. The keep was buzzing, getting everything ready for the ceremony and to host so many new people. There was still a sense of unreality pervading everything; after so many years isolated in Tarth, with no more responsibility than staying alive and giving the children the education they needed, now they were suddenly in the middle of court and Jaime was as unprepared as Elia.

"What do you mean _we_ have to elect a Council?" Elia had asked one day, Varys and Olenna had been suggesting names and she had looked at Jaime for help. He had shrugged, of course, he knew the intricacies of government, he had been in enough small council sessions with Aerys, but he'd never had any responsibility in them, he's been just there guarding his King while the council did their job. Somehow, he hadn't thought what would happen after putting Aegon in the throne, he had believed he'd be free to return to Casterly Rock and reclaim his birthright, but that wasn't going to happen, not if it meant leaving his family here.

"Your son is too young to govern on his own," Varys had explained, looking at them intently. "He needs a Regent, a Hand and a Council he can trust. You should be making decisions."

Elia had looked puzzled for a moment, unsure of why they were looking at her. "Oh, no, Jaime can be Regent, he's as good as the King's father," she had said, and Jaime had just stopped breathing for a moment. 

"No. He's your son, you be Queen Regent. Not me, not Doran or Oberyn. _You_." Jaime had seen what the crown did to people, to his sister, he didn't want that thing close to him. 

"You'll stay here with us, though?" Elia has asked, almost in a panic. "You'll protect him as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"

He had felt his heart stopping, and he'd looked at Brienne, who was looking back at him with the same fear on her face. Since the day they arrived and that uncomfortable conversation, they had managed to find some time for their own every night in spite of the myriad of responsibilities and things to do around the Keep. They had kept their engagement to themselves, waiting for the situation to fully resolve so they could announce it to the world, but the few minutes they could steal for themselves each night, they spent kissing and discovering each other's bodies, always careful to keep it decent so she would marry a maid. Jaime had never been so happy or so frustrated in his life, but he wouldn't give this up for all the honours in Westeros. 

He would never wear the White again. "Eli, _Kingsguard can't marry_."

"Oh," she had said with an apologetic look at Brienne.

"You should be Hand, Lord Jaime," Selwyn had suggested with an amused look at Elia, and everyone else had nodded. Jaime had sagged in relief until the words fully registered, and then he stiffened in panic again. "As Elia said, you're as good as his father, and he will listen to you and need you for some time yet. I think Lady Olenna should also have a place in the council."

Olenna had smiled at Selwyn. "You mean my son," she had said, and Selwyn had just smiled at her. 

"No, Lady Olenna, we all know who the real power in Highgarden is." 

She had nodded, satisfied, "As long as you take another seat, Lord Evenstar."

It had felt a bit like they were carrion birds taking the choicest morsels of a dead beast, and Jaime had complained about that to his brother when Tyrion arrived. 

"Of course it does," Tyrion had said, laughing at him. "It's the same every time there is a change of regime, or do you think Robert Baratheon didn't put his own friends and family in the council and didn't reward with power those who had helped him? You didn't think the Tyrell gave their aid to you for loyalty?" And yes, Jaime knew he was being naive, but he hadn't done it for power, and neither had Selwyn or Ned. Dorne had done it for revenge, he knew, and some for power, but at least Elia wasn't like that, which made her perfect for Queen Regent. "Maybe this time we'll have a good King and a Council that cares for the people," he had added, before leaving his brother to look for Brienne while he went looking for Oberyn. "He knows the best establishments," Tyrion had said, gleeful, and Jaime hadn't wanted to know.

And now Ned Stark was back in the Red Keep, and he hadn't come alone. Robert and Tywin had been placed under guard in their rooms, Jaime had considered for a moment whether to keep him away from Cersei if what she had said of his brutality was true, but couldn't justify keeping a man from his wife and children, especially under the strange circumstances they were in. 

"Jaime," Ned said entering the council room with an exhausted smile. "It's been a long time."

Jaime stood from his seat to clasp his hand, suddenly happy to see this man who without being his friend, had turned his life around with one word. He didn't have words to explain how much it had meant that someone had looked at him then and didn't dismiss him immediately as a man with no honour. That someone had cared enough to ask when his own family hadn't. "Ned, it's good to see you." Ned looked around, taking in the members of the council, and greeted them in turn before he took a seat. He looked tired from the long march and heartsick, the days on the road after a campaign weighing on him. "The news we got is that Greyjoy was defeated and Robert accepted our terms?"

Ned sighed. "He did, reluctantly." He looked at Jaime in the eye and he saw it had not been an easy conversation, Ned had been his friend and the loss of him was plain on his face. "I hope this is worth it, I hope we're not putting another Aerys on the throne."

"I would never allow that, you know it." Ned nodded and took the goblet of wine a servant offered him, drinking deeply from him. 

"My party is exhausted from the march and hungry, but I don't think there should be a celebration. Not for this."

Elia stood up, "I'll ask the servants to bring some food to their rooms," she said, "has everyone been escorted to them?"

"I think so, but please Lady Elia, I need to speak to all of you," he said and Elia sat down again. "I've asked Cat to bring Jon to King's Landing as soon as they are all fit to travel," he began and Jaime saw the puzzled looks everyone was sharing.

"Ned," he interrupted him, "I haven't told anyone about Jon."

"Not even Elia?" He appeared shocked for a moment when Jaime shook his head, then he smiled wryly. "You really kept your King's secrets." He took a deep breath and looked at Elia, who was completely focused on him. "When I got to the tower of Joy, during the last days of the rebellion, my sister Lyanna was dying. She had just given birth to a boy, Rhaegar's son, who I promised to keep safe. I took him with me, and because Robert had been saying some things that bear not repeating here, I thought safer to claim the boy a bastard from an indiscretion. I've been raising him in Winterfell as Jon Snow."

Elia closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face for an instant learning of the last of Rhaegar's transgressions. "Will you bring him here to meet his other siblings?"

Ned nodded. "Yes, Cat has just given birth to our youngest daughter, she won't be travelling for at least three moons, but I've asked her to come with all our children as soon as she can."

"Does she know?" Jaime asked, curious. He remembered that half-written letter and the advise he'd given Ned

"Yes, she knows." Ned smiled at him and Jaime was certain there was a story there. Maybe, if things went well, he'd have time to hear it. It looked like Ned Stark was going to be staying in King's Landing for a while, maybe this time they could actually become friends. "He doesn't, nor did anyone but us three until I told Robert. Jon is my son in all but blood, and I want him to stay in Winterfell with us, at least until he's old enough to be squired. But I want him to know the truth and to meet his other family."

Jaime saw how Elia relaxed, a tension that had crept in her posture completely gone now. She had not wanted to be the mother of his husband's bastard anymore than Catelyn Stark would have wanted to, and was glad Ned wasn't asking for it. "Of course, Lord Stark."

Ned deposited his goblet on the table and stood. "With your leave, I'm more tired than I thought, I will retire and see you all in court tomorrow."

"Of course," Elia said, "we should all get some rest. Good night, Lord Stark."

They all left the council room and Jaime took Brienne's hand, enjoying the way she blushed, and walked with her to her rooms, slipping inside to kiss her goodnight. "You really are good at keeping secrets," she said, panting against his mouth once they separated, her voice rough and her eyes dark. 

"I had to be, in the Kingsguard" Jaime pressed himself against her and leaned up for another kiss, and she opened up for him, her hands tight on his back, her mouth hot and sweet and so arousing. He moved his lips from her mouth to her neck, and Brienne moaned loudly, Jaime's cock throbbing at the sound. 

Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, taking in her flushed face and swollen lips and the way her chest heaved as if they had been fighting for hours instead of kissing for minutes. 

"I have to go," he rasped, putting more distance between them. "Or I'll end up throwing you on the bed and dishonouring you, and we are so close now. Just a few more days."

She sighed and nodded, as eager as he was. "Just a few more days."

Jaime smiled and left the room with one last look. 

Tomorrow everything would be resolved, and they could finally move on with the rest of their lives.

...

Court was always boring, or at least it had been when Jaime was guarding Aerys. Now he had a more active role, or he would once he was officially appointed as Hand of the King. For today, though, he was in full armour at the foot of the Throne, where Aegon was sitting with his mother on one side and his sister and uncle on the other, all of them wearing their house regalia. Brienne and Selwyn were also armoured, her at the foot of the throne, him behind it in place of the Kingsguard that still needed to be formed. 

They all looked as the Lords and Ladies of the court filed in, taking their usual places around the room, the murmurs of conversations and gossip almost frantic. Word had got around of Robert's presence in the Keep and that he was about to abdicate on Aegon, and the courtiers were excited, smelling blood on the water. 

Ned Stark and Jon Arryn were the first people in; they were in full armour, as befit Lords just returning from a campaign. Behind them were Brynden Tully and his father, Tywin, who had zeroed on Jaime with uncanny accuracy though his face was completely expressionless. It was impossible to know what was going on behind his eyes, but his lip had curled in a half smile when he'd seen Jaime. Last of the group were Robert and Cersei, and she had chosen to wear Baratheon colours, dressing her children in the same. Robert was also wearing full armour, his war hammer in his hand, and the sight of it made Jaime nervous. He shared a look with Oberyn, who nodded minutely and gripped his spear tighter. 

He didn't care what they'd promised Ned Stark if Robert made a move against Aegon, he wasn't coming out of the room alive. 

Ned and Jon Arryn were the first ones to bend the knee, Brynden and Tywin followed them. Aegon smiled sweetly at them as his mother had told him. "I hereby confirm that Ned Stark remains Lord Paramount of the North," he said, his childish voice high and breaking a bit on the word Paramount. "Holster Tully remains Paramount of the Riverlands and Jon Arryn of the Eyre. Tywin Lannister, for your crimes against my family, I hereby strip you of your title of Lord Lannister. Your son, Jaime Lannister, will become the Lord of Casterly Rock, Paramount of the Westerlands, and Hand of the King. You might take the Black, if so you choose, or go into exile."

"I'll take the Black," Tywin said, displaying no surprise at all for the sentence, the half smile not disappearing from his face even when his eyes landed on Tyrion, who was smiling widely.

Robert advanced next, and Jaime was suddenly, painfully aware that they had made a mistake allowing him his weapon. 

It all happened too fast, and the only warning Jaime had was the satisfied look Cersei shot him. This was her revenge then, whatever her husband was about to do, Jaime could bet it had been her idea. Robert gripped his hammer harder and turned to Jaime with fury and hatred in his eyes. " _Kingslayer_!" he shouted, advancing with the advantage of his weight and power, his hammer already arcing in the air. 

" _Not him_!" Cersei shouted, but her voice faded in the middle of the din suddenly taking the throne room.

Jaime moved, but he was too slow to unsheathe his sword, in the corner of his eye he saw Brienne and Selwyn unsheathing theirs, and Ned Stark gripping his greatsword with two hands and advancing on Robert. He felt the impact of that monstrous hammer against his chest, his breath lost and pain like he had never felt before spreading from his chest. He flew through the air and landed on the steps to the throne, the impact barely registering among the agony engulfing him, his ears reverberating with Elia's and Brienne's shouts of his name. 

The last thing he saw before darkness took him was Brienne and Ned Stark driving their swords through Robert Baratheon.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, I swear I'll make it better


	13. Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. Done. I want to thank everyone who had commented and given kudos to this, I'm honestly shocked by the response, and by the fact I wrote something this long. It wouldn't have without all of you, so thanks so much!!
> 
> And now, as an apology for the last cliffhanger... let the fluff begin :)

Brienne startled awake at the hand on her shoulder, her head coming up and her eyes snapping open. For a moment she didn't know where she was, she thought she had fallen asleep again during Septa Roelle's lessons and was going to get scolded.

"You need to rest, my child," her father's soft and worried voice dispelled the last of her dream, and reality rushed back in. "He'll still be here when you get back, go get some sleep and let Elia and the kids take your place."

She looked at the bed where Jaime was so still and pale, his breathing shallow and laboured where his chest had almost caved in with the force of Robert's hammer's impact, and very reluctantly released his hand and stood up from the chair. She passed Elia by the door, her eyes red-rimmed and exhaustion and grief clear in her posture, a mirror of her own. Brienne hugged her briefly and let her father herd her to her room, where she fell on the bed but couldn't sleep, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her fists clenched by her sides to prevent more tears from spilling.

It had been a miracle Jaime survived that blow, and for a terrible instant she had thought he wouldn't. "You can thank Westerlands craftmanship and Lannister gold, my Lady," the Maester had said after they got Jaime to him and they had carefully stripped him of armour. She had, she had prayed to the Warrior and the Mother to keep the Stranger away from Jaime.

It had all been too easy; she had known Jaime was worrying about it because he had told her during their stolen moments at night. He had told her and she had not listened, too caught up on his lips and his eyes and his smile, too lost on the feeling of his hands on her body and the sound of his soft moans. He had told her and she had thought he was too paranoid, they had the throne and Robert had surrendered, they had managed the impossible and regained the throne without bloodshed. He had told her, and the moment Robert had shouted in the throne room Brienne had known she should have believed him.

They had been the ones closest to Robert, both of them at the bottom of the stairs keeping guard since Aegon hadn't elected his Kingsguard yet, Brienne had turned at Robert's shout just in time to see Jaime being hit with the hammer, his armour crumpling in as he flew through the air like a ragdoll. Her entire being had focused on the edge of her sword then, which was in her hand in an instant, and she had advanced on Robert, who was turning to his friend Ned Stark now, snarling at him as he went. Ned also had his sword out, a Valyrian steel greatsword, and Brienne blocked the hammer as it turned towards him to give him the time and space to manoeuvre. She had caught a glimpse of Ned's face, pain and disbelief clear on it, but hadn't had time to do anything but avoid being hit when Robert turned to her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw her father coming down from the throne, Oberyn hot on his heels while Elia rushed to Jaime. Robert was a formidable enemy, and under normal circumstances, he would have been impossible to beat by the likes of her alone, unbloodied and unused to real combat as she was. But she wasn't alone, and she had rage and desperation on her side. She parried a blow of the hammer, Stark coming at Robert from the flank, and she saw the opening then, thrusting her sword on the soft point of his armour. She felt it give, and her sword went into him, Robert fell to his knees, Stark's greatsword piercing him as well from his other side.

"Goddammit, Robert," Ned Stark had said under his breath, and he went to his knees as well next to his friend, as if he had been the one mortally wounded. The whole thing had lasted less than a minute, and Brienne couldn't process the fact that so little time was enough for a life to turn upside down.

Brienne had stumbled towards Jaime, her sword falling from her hand now the threat was dealt with. There had been screams, and she realized some were coming from her mouth and forced herself to stop. Somehow Cersei had reached Jaime before Brienne did, though Tyrion and Tywin were keeping her away, their faces ashen but determined. She had screamed something before, Brienne had remembered, and now when faced with Brienne she had looked at her with pure, terrible loathing and calmly said, " _It was supposed to be you_." She had been dragged away by someone, Brienne hadn't cared who, she had only cared about Jaime and the fact that he was breathing but very shallowly, a trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth.

That had been two days ago, and though Jaime was still alive he hadn't woke up. He had several broken ribs from Robert's hammer, it was thanks to the Lannister's obsession of using gold for everything that the armour had not shattered inwards and killed him instantly, or so the Maester believed, but he had hit his unprotected head when he landed, and that was what worried them the most. "We won't know if there is any damage until he regains consciousness," the Maester had admitted, and since then they had all taken turns to stay with Jaime at all times.

Normally it would be Elia or Brienne in the room, though Tyrion insisted on staying as much as he could. Tywin had asked to be allowed to stay in King's Landing until such a time as he knew his son would recover, and had let himself to be locked in a guest room, only receiving news twice a day from servants. Tyrion had looked at his sister when she was being taken away by the guards, his expression twisted with loathing and pain. " _If he dies, you die_."

Cersei had not been allowed the same courtesy as Tywin and had been handed to the Silent Sisters immediately. She had not resisted, Elia had told Brienne, had let them take her away as if she was just a doll, empty of everything but grief. Her children had been given to a wet nurse and were to be kept out of sight until such a time as they could be sent to Casterly Rock. "Jaime would hate for anything to happen to them," Elia had said, and she had been right, though neither of them wanted to see them.

Brienne couldn't shake the feeling that this was all her fault, her punishment for believing that one such as she could marry a man like Jaime, that someone as ugly and defective could be joined with someone as perfect. Couldn't help but feel that if she had believed Jaime, or if she had been quicker, or if she had been less happy, the Gods would have not taken him from her.

It was silly, and she knew those were unfair and damaging thoughts. The only people to blame were Robert and Cersei Baratheon, and they had been already punished for it, but the times she was forced away from Jaime's side they would crowd her head, making it impossible to get any rest. If she was reading everyone correctly, the dark circles under their eyes and their red eyes, she wasn't the only one with those poisonous thoughts.

She was grateful for her father and Olenna, who were keeping the Kingdom afloat alongside Varys, now while everyone else was too preoccupied with Jaime. Aegon and Rhaenys had refused to basically do anything until they had been allowed to see him, and the court had been suspended for now. She knew this was going to be talked about for many years to come, it was impossible it wasn't, not that she cared,

She was taken out of her thoughts by a knock on her door, and she launched herself out of bed to open it. There was a servant there looking startled at the speed with which the door had been opened. "Lady Brienne, Queen Elia has asked for you to return to Lord Jaime's room. He's awake," she said, recovering from her surprise, and Brienne felt the band that had been constricting her chest ease slightly, allowing her to breathe properly for the first time in days.

She ran all the way to Jaime's room and almost barreled in. Rhaenys was crying softly, clinging to the side of the bed and Jaime had his hand on her head, his fingers twined in her hair. Aegon had fallen asleep already and a servant had taken him away, Elia was sitting on the chair, tears running down her cheeks but a brilliant smile on her face, "You had us very worried, Jay," she was saying, her voice wobbling a bit.

"Sorry," Jaime rasped and then winced as if even that had caused him terrible pain. Then his eyes snapped up to Brienne, and they were the same beautiful sharp eyes she loved so much. He smiled at her, genuinely pleased to see her. "Brienne," he said, lifting his other hand towards her. "Can we postpone the wedding for a few days?"

She went to his side and gripped it tight, bursting into tears.

He was going to be fine.

…

Catelyn Stark rode into King's Landing over a moon after that day with a babe at her breast and three children clinging to her skirts, and what looked like half of Winterfell trailing behind her. She had received the news of Robert's death and the part her husband had played on it, and correctly deduced Ned needed her but would have not called for her since Little Arya was too young.

"She's a Stark and a Tully, a bit of travel this young will not harm her," Catelyn said to Ned's stunned face right after dropping the squirming bundle in his arms.

Catelyn was right to come, it was immediately obvious in the way having his family with him was helping Ned come out of the black mood he had fallen into. It was impossible for anyone's mood to remain dark when faced with the three Stark children, but Brienne had a soft spot for little Sansa. The little girl was a miniature of her mother, with fiery auburn hair and big blue eyes, and she followed her mother around like a duckling, staring wide-eyed at the courtiers and ignoring her brothers who had fallen enraptured with Rhaenys and followed her around like ducklings, wanted to learn sword fighting with her and challenged each other with wooden swords.

"I'm just happy we can tell the truth about Jon now," Catelyn said one day, Brienne had finished her training and had found Cat there watching her. They had spent some time together while Jaime and Ned talked, both trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the past few years and how they had ended there. "If Ned had not told me I would have hated the boy, only seen him as a failure to my duty and a mark on Ned's honour, but once I knew and I had to treat the boy with some coldness, lest we gave away the game. I'm just happy he's young enough and any damage can be undone."

No damage appeared to have been done to Jon, though. He was a happy enough child, and very sweet. He was a bit more reserved than Robb, but that could just be his temperament, and he got along with Aegon and Daenerys, who Varys had brought back from exile, pretty well. Viserys was having a harder time in court, especially with another of Rhaegar's children with a better claim to the throne than his, but he would adjust to it eventually. "Or he can return to exile or take the Black," Jaime said when Brienne had mentioned it, all of them watching the children practising in the yard with the maester at arms while Sansa and Daenerys spent time with Elia and her needles. "I saw how he made his sister cry, and I don't like that boy. He's Aerys's son in a way his brother wasn't. I don't trust it."

"He's just a boy," Brienne said. She couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for him to have to spend the last six years on the run. At least Rhaenys and Aegon had been safe in Tarth.

"Jaime is right," Cat intervened, a thin line marring her brow. "He's cruel to the younger children. He had six years to convince himself the throne would be his, and now he has to adjust to the idea that not only Aegon is King, but he won't inherit while Jon is alive were something to happen to him."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Jaime said, and it remained unspoken that if someone could spot the signs of Aerys's madness and cruelty, it would definitely be him.

In the past couple of moons since that awful day, King's Landing had been slowly returning to normal, the armies that had covered almost every free inch of space had returned to their homes, frustrated for not having fought but still happy for the easy paycheck. Stannis Baratheon had not hesitated to bend the knee after his brother's death and had accepted to keep the position of Master of Ships that he'd had for his brother. "He's a good man, a bit too rigid but honest and loyal," Selwyn had said, and Ned had confirmed it, still unable to look Stannis in the eye due to his own guilt. Stannis didn't seem to hold a grudge though, he had known his brother. Life in the Keep was also coming back to what it was, Tywin Lannister had been sent to the Wall once Jaime was awake and he'd been allowed to see him one last time. They had not spoken to each other, but some of the lines on Tywin's face eased slightly at seeing his son glaring at him but very much alive and well on the road to recovery.

"He'll take over in a year, mark my words," Tyrion had said to his brother that night sitting on the side of the bed, pretending not to care his father had not sought him out for a farewell. Brienne had hated Tywin even more for that, nobody should feel so unworthy of his father's love.

"As long as he's there, he's not scheming here, that's all I care about," Jaime had said, and that had been that. About his sister, he had only asked whether she was alive or not, and never mentioned her again once he knew she was with the Silent Sisters, though Brienne had been able to see the grief on his face.

Jaime was slowly returning to something like normal as well, his broken ribs had kept him bedridden for a fortnight, the Maester worried that any exertion could cause some shift in one and pierce some important internal organs. Jaime had grumbled and protested and generally annoyed everyone like the child he could be sometimes, arguing that he felt much better, though in truth Brienne could see his winces of pain and how he got winded from exhaustion after just a few minutes of activity.

"I'm never going to regain my strength if I don't practice," Jaime had pouted at her, taking full advantage of the effect this had on Brienne. They had been taking a slow walk around the gardens, the one activity the Maester had allowed him a whole moon into his recovery, and avoiding as many courtiers as they could.

"Jaime, you almost died," she had said, and it was surprising how her voice didn't shake anymore, even when she wanted to scream just thinking about it, just remembering the paleness of his face and that trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth. "You need to recover."

He had squeezed her hand, twining their fingers together as if he had known she needed the contact. "But I didn't, and this forced inactivity is driving me crazy. Just some light exercise can't be too bad, I'm sure it will actually improve my condition."

She had heard those words before and had stopped to look at him with a frown. "I remember you using that argument before," she had said, slowly and he had smiled mischievously at her, clearly remembering when and why. "Fine, you can have your exercise," she had finally conceded, and Jaime had lit up. "But I don't want you to overexert yourself, so you can only have one kind of light exercise per day, _you can choose which one_." Brienne had smiled sweetly at his horrified expression, and then he'd burst out laughing, wincing but unable to stop, while she had blushed a deep red.

"My love," he had said with a wide smile on his face, "you're learning; you might survive court yet."

As expected, he had relented about exercising before the Maester told him he could, he wasn't going to renounce to his favourite activity, something Brienne had been counting on; she would have hated to go without their kisses and touches until their wedding day.

Now, if she only knew when that day was going to be.

...

"Are you ready, my child?"

Brienne took a deep breath and looked at her father, the love and pride so clear on his face, and smiled at him, "No," she said, certain he would understand what she meant. She could never be ready, not for this, no matter how much she had dreamt of it she had never believed she would get it. Not her.

"It's going to be alright, Brienne," he reassured her, and she nodded and took his proffered arm.

She didn't think she'd been this nervous in her entire life; not on her wedding day or on her wedding night. She had been nervous then, that was true, no bride ever faced her wedding day without nerves, or so Elia and Cat had told her, but not to this degree where she could feel her palms sweating so much that if she was required to hold a sword, it would certainly fall from her hands.

Their wedding had ended up being postponed for more than the few days Jaime had said; by the time the Maester had finally considered Jaime healed enough for the ceremony, "And the wedding night," Jaime had said teasingly, making her blush, "don't forget the wedding night," two moons had gone by and the list of people who would be attending was too long for Brienne's comfort.

Brienne had been really grateful for Elia and Cat during the leading days to her wedding, they had helped her with her dress and cloak, advised her about her hair and taken the place of the mother and sisters Brienne could barely remember. Elia's embroidered suns and lions on the bodice of her dress were something to be admired, and they matched perfectly with the sword Brienne had refused to relinquish even for one day, much to her father's amusement. "It's the least I can do for you," Elia had said after helping her try the dress on, the altered shape of it fitting Brienne like no dress had ever done. "We wouldn't be here without you and your father. I hope you know that."

She had embraced Elia, and Brienne had never felt more beautiful than when she entered the Sept on her father's arm, the blue silk of the dress draped around her and Tarth's cloak hanging from her shoulders. Jaime had turned to look at her, and she was still taller than everyone but her father in the Sept, still had too wide shoulders and too small breasts, and no waist to speak of. Her face was still mismatched and covered in freckles, her teeth crooked and her mouth too wide. Jaime was staring at her as if she was the moon and the sun, and there were no whispers in the Sept, no snickers of jeers, the dress she was wearing made for her to emphasize her big eyes and her power, not cut for the kind of dainty woman she was not, the sword at her waist emphasizing the point. The feeling of being in a dream had lasted the entire ceremony, while they recited their vows and while Jaime put his cloak over her shoulders. It had carried her through the wedding reception, where the food and wine had flowed freely and even Ned Stark had finally cracked a smile while dancing with his wife. There had been calls for a bedding, though mostly from people who didn't know them well and had not been brave enough to try and force the issue on an armed bride who had proven her skill with a blade; both Jaime and Brienne had ignored them.

Jaime had laughed all the way to their room, where he had guided her by the hand under the looks of everyone, and once they had been there he had descended upon her like a starving man kissing her against the door and effectively robbing her of breath and strength. "Alone, at last, my wife," he had said, against her mouth and Brienne had felt a frisson of excitement and nerves at him calling her _his wife._

She still did, all these moons later, mainly because Jaime used it sparingly and mostly when they were unclothed. He loved to whisper it between her legs, always looking at her with that glimmer of mischief she had learned to fear during their wedding night, it always meant he was going to spend an age with his face buried between her thighs, his wicked tongue making her scream so loud her face would be red for the entire following day.

Brienne had never thought this kind of marital bliss would be hers; her Septa had prepared her for a husband who would just perform his duty in the dark, considerate of her pain if she was very lucky but certainly careless of her pleasure. Instead, she got a husband who insisted on having as many candles as possible around them so he could spend time looking at her and memorizing every freckle and scar, a husband who wasn't satisfied until she was a panting mess and had screamed herself hoarse, who knew exactly how to touch her and how to make love to her to have her almost begging for more, and who would also do nothing but curl around her and kiss her tenderly if she wasn't in the mood for it.

That should have been enough, it was more than she had ever thought she'd get. And yet, the Gods had somehow decided to bless her even more.

They reached the Throne room sooner than she was prepared, but her father's hand was steady on hers, and his presence by her side was enough to calm her. She walked slowly, her chin up, her back straight, eyes locked on Jaime who was smiling down at her from his position next to Aegon.

It was the first anniversary of his coronation, and the Kingdoms were thriving.

Many people from all over the Kingdoms had come for the celebration, Doran Martell had finally made it out of Dorne, much to Elia's delight, and Oberyn had come with his paramour, Ellaria Sand, who had looked at Brienne and Jaime while they trained for the tournament. She had stared with dark eyes and then turned to Oberyn, " _Yes, them_ ," she had said, and the tone had made Brienne's face flush for a completely different reason than the exercise. Jaime had laughed at her, but he was still blushing.

They had celebrated a tournament in honour of Aegon, and Brienne had participated and won the Melee. In spite of all the time that had passed, Jaime had not participated in the tourney, his ribs had healed but the Maester had advised against a Melee for him. "I wouldn't have won, anyway, not while Brienne participates," he had said, pretending very hard he wasn't bothered by this. Brienne had threatened with crowning Jaime as King of Love and Beauty if he so wanted the crown of the tournament, much to everyone's amusement, and that had been enough to shut him up.

She had given the crown to Ellaria Sand in the end, a gesture that was going to have tongues wagging for some time. "I know why you've done it," Jaime had said that morning, kissing her awake. " _And I agree_."

"Lady Lannister," Aegon's voice rang loud in the room, still childish but gaining in confidence to speak publicly. He still hated the lessons with a passion, but Jaime and Elia were still able to prevail over him and his stubborn sister, who was getting more and more willful every day, trying to escape lessons to spend time training in the yard with the squires. "For the honour earned during the tournament and the courage shown during this first year of my reign, you are granted the title of Ser Brienne of Tarth, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms." He didn't stand up from the Throne though. "I have granted my Hand, your Lord Husband, the privilege of Knighting you himself."

Brienne felt her breath stuck on her throat, and Jaime started climbing down the steps. He looked magnificent, he had let his hair grow again and it was now curling around his ears and over the nape of his neck, he was wearing a Lannister jerkin with the golden lion embroidered and sun and moons accents, as he had been doing since even before they were married, and he was gripping his sword tight, readjusting his grip on it as if his palms were as sweaty as Brienne's.

" _Kneel_ , Lady Brienne," he said, pointing with his sword to the space in front of the Throne.

She did, and the entire room seemed to hold their breath. Brienne was not breathing, not really, expecting to wake up at any moment and discover that the past few years had been just a very vivid dream and she was still the Ugliest Maid in Westeros, about to be rejected by the likes of Ronnet Connington, who had been banned for life from court, _for being a cunt,_ as Jaime had so gallantly put.

She stared into his eyes, losing herself in them and the proud smile on his face.

Afterwards, she couldn't remember one single word that had been said, though the vows she had memorized when she was a small girl dreaming of Knighthood but knowing it was not for the likes of her. She could not remember anything but his eyes and his mouth shaping words around a smile, and the touch of his sword over her shoulders grounding her in reality. She only remembered his voice saying, "Arise, Lady Lannister. Arise, Brienne of Tarth, Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. _Arise, my wife_ ," in a tone that promised a long and delightful night for both of them.

The room had then exploded in the kind of applause reserved for gallant Knights after winning a tournament, which she thought she might be now. She looked around and saw her father, eyes shining and proud, and Elia by his side, closer than it was strictly appropriate but everyone kept pretending they didn't know about them. Saw Tyrion clapping the loudest and Oberyn and Ellaria with twin smiles, and on one side she saw Rhaenys, her eyes fierce and happy, mouthing at her.

_"I'm next."_

_..._

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic descriptions of violence. Mentions of rape.
> 
>  
> 
> Please come keep me company in the madhouse that is tumblr  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aviss


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